Encounter at Pemberley
by elag
Summary: Darcy retreated to Pemberley to nurse his broken heart after Elizabeth rejected his proposal at Hunsford. Elizabeth, touring Derbyshire with the Gardiners, met Darcy in the grounds of Pemberley. Follow a new trajectory after they overcome their shyness to talk more openly than in canon. Book is now available on Kobo and Kindle. Author: Margaret Gale.
1. Chapter 1

It was near midnight before he finished the stack of correspondence on his desk. Placing the last carefully penned reply atop a neat pile of letters ready for the morrow's post, he leaned back in his chair and sighed. It had been a long day, full of necessary duties and the dull routine that made up his life. Tomorrow promised more of the same. Day upon day of duty and regret.

He should retire to his bedchamber and at least pretend to sleep: his sister would worry if she heard that he had spent another night entire in his study, and he had run out of glib excuses for his behaviour. He could not tell her the truth – that he had met a wonderful woman, treated her shabbily, proposed insultingly, and been roundly rejected, leaving his heart bleeding and his conscience bruised. He would give anything to have his time over again, but instead had to reconcile himself to eternal regret.

Sleep evaded him. If, through sheer exhaustion, he managed to doze, he would wake, sweating, from vivid dreams. In some, she upbraided him again and again, her eyes fiery and distressed, for his ungentlemanly conduct. In others, which were infinitely worse, she welcomed his suit and pressed her body to his in a loving embrace. The shame he felt was acute, to wake in a state of full arousal only to realise that his beloved was merely a figment of his lascivious imagination.

He spent the hours between midnight and dawn pacing restlessly in his room. As soon as the first light of dawn crept through his heavy drapes, he dressed quickly and made his way to the stables. A gallop would clear his head enough to be able to face his sister at the breakfast table and pretend, for one more day, that nothing was wrong. While his mount was saddled, he leaned wearily against a post and closed his eyes. How many more days could he endure before this pain passed?

An hour later, he took pity on his horse and turned back toward the house. He had ridden hard and fast through the home farm and into the woods beyond. The paths were well tended, and he had been able to cover considerable distance before he realised his mount was tiring. He slowed to a walk, letting the beast recover while they wended their way home. He came to a small promontory that overlooked his estate: from horizon to horizon, well-tended farms and stands of wood shone green in the morning sun. It was a sight that usually warmed his heart, but today it chilled him. He was destined to spend his life as master of all this, yet without a wife and family to share it with. His sister would marry and leave home, and he would be left all alone, for he could not imagine marrying anyone but _her_ , and _she_ would not have him.

Unable to face the prospect of breakfast with his sister, he turned instead towards the lake. Perhaps a swim would shake him out of his mood. At the least it would refresh him enough to pretend to Georgiana that he had slept last night. He shed his riding coat, boots and gloves, and waded into the murky water. He had often swum here as a lad: he, Richard and George would race across the lake and back, with the added challenge of seeing who could stay underwater longest coming back. His dignity as master of the estate meant he had seldom indulged since his father's death, six years before. Still, he found all his old skill returning as he struck out with strong strokes toward the other shore. On the return journey, almost without thought, he ducked under the surface and swam several yards before returning to the air.

He did feel better for the swim – it had washed away a few cobwebs of self-pity. He donned his boots, took up the horse's reins, and, carrying his coat neatly folded across his arm, began to walk briskly back to the house. He handed the horse off to a stable hand and strode through the gardens towards the kitchen door. It would hardly do to track water through the main foyer!

As he came around a corner of the house, he nearly walked directly into her. _She_ was here! _She_ was strolling in his garden! He stopped in his tracks and gaped like a fool. It took several moments before he realised this was not a waking dream but – however inexplicably – real. Her name burst from his lips in surprise, and belatedly he essayed a bow.

Her surprise was equal to his own. She hurried to explain that she was touring with her relatives and they had been assured the family was from home. She tried to apologise for intruding. She tried to avert her eyes, although despite her best efforts those eyes, those beautiful eyes, kept coming back to look at him.

He tried to reassure her. She was most welcome at his home. (He could not _begin_ to describe how welcome she truly was! He dared not. He might scare her away.) What could it mean that she was here? What did her glances at his person import? That she was embarrassed was clear. But why? Did she still hate him? Had his letter perhaps made her think a little better of him? His mind busy with trying to make sense of her presence, and work out how to prevent her from leaving, his mouth performed its usual trick when in her company, and spewed forth nonsense. He was sure he had asked after the health of her family at least twice! She must think him a complete idiot.

At length he recovered his composure enough to realise he was standing in front of the only woman he had ever loved, dripping like a fish and not properly dressed. If he had not already coloured brightly on first seeing her, he would have blushed now. As it was, he remained a becoming pink, while his eyes widened with the realisation of how he must be embarrassing her. He excused himself abruptly and rushed into the house. Commandeering his valet and two footmen, he was dried, dressed and shaved in record time. It was barely ten minutes before he burst from the door again, searching for the party of visitors.

A gardener pointed him to the stream, where they had set out for a stroll towards the little bridge. He hurried down the opposite bank, meaning to intercept them on their return journey. Before long, he spied her companions walking slowly away from him, but _she_ was nowhere in sight. With a feeling of dread, he worried that she had fled the property as soon as he had left her. Had she retired to their coach, waiting for her relatives to complete the circuit of his garden? Had she set off for Lambton by foot? (He would not put it past her – it was only five miles.) Oh, please God, let him not have missed her.

But then it was _her_ turn to almost run into _him_. She had outpaced her companions, striding out quickly to give herself time and space to recover from the surprise of encountering him. She had reached the bridge, crossed and walked briskly back toward the house, all before they had walked half the distance. The path took a small turn around a stand of holly bushes, and then suddenly she was face to face with _him_ again. He had made himself presentable, and she felt a small twinge of regret at no longer being able to see him _in deshabille_ , for he certainly had been an interesting sight.

Recovering her equilibrium sufficiently to offer a polite curtsey, she greeted him and waited for him to speak. She had already tendered apologies for her presence. There was little else she could, in all politeness, say. Oh, if things were different she could tell him how much her opinion of him had changed. She would apologise for the things that stood unmentioned between them – her cruel rejection of his proposal, her foolish misjudgement of his character, her gullible acceptance of slander against him. But such subjects were impossible, so she was silent.

He bowed in response to her curtsey, and then was silent, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. She was more beautiful than he had imagined: her healthy complexion heightened by her brisk walk and, dared he hope, by her pleasure in seeing him? Shaking off such wishful whimsy, he exerted himself to demonstrate that he had taken her reprimands to heart and was trying to be a better man. He offered her his arm and was delighted when she shyly took it. Together, they set off back toward the house at a gentle stroll.

After a few minutes discussing her travels and the sights of Derbyshire, he could bear it no longer. He needed to apologise for his past conduct. It had burned a hole in his heart to know that he might never see her again, and now, here she was, on his arm. If he did not seize the opportunity, it might never come again. For his own sanity, he must speak. He stopped, and gently turned her to look at him.

"Miss Bennet," he said, "I beg you to forgive me for my abominable conduct in Hertfordshire, and for the foolish and arrogant things I said in Kent. I cannot bear to know that I hurt you, and I cannot bear to think that you think so ill of me as you did then. Please, Miss Bennet, give me a chance to apologise – to show that I have changed – that _you_ have changed me."

She looked at him all amazement. She coloured. She began to speak but paused. And then, as she saw the anxiety in which he stood, she spoke: "Mr Darcy, I will accept your apology if you will accept mine. I have long been most heartily ashamed of the things I said to you. When I read your letter, I soon realised how mistaken I had been, and could not think on how harshly I had spoken, how prejudiced and foolish to believe what was said against you by a comparative stranger, without the deepest regret. Please, sir, allow me to apologise."

"Elizabeth," he breathed out, almost as a caress, before recalling his manners and correcting himself. "Miss Bennet, your conduct was quite understandable in light of my rudeness. As soon as my temper cooled I saw how wrong I had been to behave as I did. The recollection of what I then said, of my conduct, my manners, my expressions during the whole of it, is now, and has been for many months, inexpressibly painful to me. Your reproofs may indeed have been hard to bear at the time, but they have done me good. They have shown me how ill qualified I was to please a woman worthy of being pleased. If you _will_ apologise, then I can only humbly accept your apology. Indeed, you were forgiven long ago."

He looked at her with such a tender gaze, pressed her hand so gently to his arm, and looked all in all as though he was struggling to hold himself back at a proper distance: Elizabeth saw with sudden clarity that the gentleman was very far from resenting her for her treatment of him. She herself had long since abandoned all remnants of her stubborn dislike of him, and was quite ready for the happy realisation of mutual affection to enter into her heart.

He watched the softening of her features as the tension with which she had held herself relaxed. The late morning sun fell across her face and he felt he had never seen anything quite so beautiful. She was here. She had forgiven him, and she regretted that her words had hurt him. Did he dare to hope for more? Could he bear to part from her not knowing?

Determined not to let this most surprising, unexpected, wonderful opportunity pass, he looked at her earnestly and said, "Miss Elizabeth Bennet, you must allow me to tell you again how ardently I admire and love you. I shall never cease doing so. Will you give me another chance to win your love? Will you agree to enter into a courtship?"

Elizabeth looked long at the gentleman before her. He was not the man she had once thought him to be. In fact he was one of the most honourable men of her acquaintance. He was intelligent, considerate, respected by his household staff, and caring of his sister. His affection for her had withstood the harshest of reverses. And he certainly was not a punishment to look at. She raised her eyes to meet his and said in a confident voice, "Mr Darcy, I would be pleased to enter a courtship with you."

When her aunt and uncle emerged from the path behind them a few moments later, they found Elizabeth and the master of the estate looking at each other with foolish smiles upon their faces, quite lost to the world around them.


	2. Chapter 2

Darcy woke from a deep sleep, more rested than he had felt for longer than he could remember. He luxuriated for a moment in his comfortable bed and thought about the wonderful dream he had enjoyed just before he woke. In his dream Elizabeth had come to Pemberley, had walked with him along the stream, had accepted his apologies and tendered her own, and, most magical of all, had accepted his request for a courtship.

As daylight intruded on his musings, his gentle smile was gradually replaced by a grimace of disappointment. How cruel his dream was: to taunt him with hope - with an illusion of happiness. How much harder, then, to wake up and face the grim reality of loss. If this was what a good night's sleep entailed, he could do without.

He rose and went through his morning routine with a stern visage. His staff kept their heads down and escaped his presence as quickly as possible. With a heavy heart, he forced himself to join his sister for breakfast. He could not avoid her two days in a row.

Entering the breakfast room, he was surprised to find Georgiana in a good mood. Positively cheerful, in fact. She greeted him warmly, bouncing up from her seat to prepare him a cup of coffee and ask what he had planned for the day. Perhaps the servants had reported his getting a good night's sleep, but surely such a small matter could not explain his sister's ebullience? Darcy sighed. Whatever it was that had improved Georgiana's mood, he could only be thankful for it. He thought about her question: what did he have planned for the day?

"I haven't given it much thought, Georgie. I suppose much the same as every day. Did you have something in mind?"

Georgiana's surprise was obvious. She put down her teacup and turned to face him. "Surely we will be going to Lambton as soon as it is polite to visit?" she asked, her voice laden with some import Darcy could not read.

"Lambton?" he asked, "Whatever for?"

"To visit the Gardiners and Miss Elizabeth, of course! You cannot mean to go the whole day without seeing her, surely?"

The Gardiners and Miss Elizabeth? Miss Elizabeth Bennet? Could it be true? Was his dream no dream after all? Or was he still asleep? Darcy did not dare hope. The pain of being thrown back into despair would be unbearable. Yet his traitorous heart would not be repressed: it insisted on opening like a sunflower to bask in the light cast by the mere _hope_ of seeing Elizabeth again. His voice betrayed his inner turmoil as he begged his sister to assure him he was really awake and not dreaming.

"Brother, you _seem_ to be awake, but perhaps you are sleepwalking after all. I cannot imagine how you could otherwise fail to be excited at the prospect of seeing her again. I am excited enough for both of us, I suppose, but I thought _you_ would show a _little_ more eagerness to visit the lady you are courting! I like her very much, William. I think she will be a wonderful sister. And I saw how you looked at her yesterday. She is good for you. Now go and get ready to make a visit!"

Darcy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was no dream. He really _had_ encountered Elizabeth again, and she really _had_ agreed to a courtship. She had come back to the house and accepted an introduction to Georgiana. The two had hit it off immediately. Georgiana was certainly predisposed to think well of _anyone_ her brother approved of, but there was more than that: a genuine affection emerged between the young women. Darcy had sat and watched the two people he cared most about in the world, entranced by their easy friendship. He could not help imagining a felicitous future with Elizabeth helping him guide Georgiana into adulthood.

It was only when he heard them giggling at him that he had managed to focus on the conversation sufficiently to understand he had been asked a direct question and failed to answer. Usually so careful of his dignity, he found he did not mind being teased by Elizabeth Bennet. But then, he never had.

Darcy had roused himself to be agreeable to Elizabeth's companions. It emerged that they were those same low connections from Cheapside he had abused Elizabeth for during his nightmare of a proposal at Hunsford. It was a pleasant surprise to find them people of fashion, well mannered and of good information. He had extended an invitation to Mr Gardiner to join him one afternoon while they remained in the vicinity to fish at Pemberley – a prospect that gentleman had welcomed enthusiastically.

Darcy had managed a private conversation with Elizabeth's uncle to inform him of their understanding, and since he was _in loco parentis_ , to seek Mr Gardiner's permission for Darcy to court Elizabeth while she was at Lambton. Darcy had promised to visit Meryton and speak with her father, but could not contemplate travelling from home while Elizabeth remained in the vicinity. He would do anything rather than put distance between himself and that young lady.

Mr Gardiner had laughed at his enthusiasm, made some witty remarks about the impetuous nature of young love, and given his blessing. Soon after, the visitors had taken their leave. Elizabeth had turned to look back at him from her seat in the Gardiner's landau, and Darcy had watched until she disappeared from view.

A joyful Georgiana had pressed him for information, but he had been too euphoric to concentrate on anything. He had admitted that he knew Elizabeth from Hertfordshire and owned that she had agreed to a courtship. It seemed that was enough: his sister was delighted.

Darcy went to his bed that night still in a near delirium of happiness. He had slept well and deeply, untroubled by dreams. This morning he had awoken, so accustomed to heartache and disappointment that he had thought the previous day a product of his wishful imagination. It had been the best of days – too good to be true. He did not deserve such bliss.

But now? Georgiana's amused assurances overwhelmed his doubts and his memory of the previous day rushed upon him with a sudden certainty. A wave of unbridled joy broke over him. A broad smile transformed his face and he pulled his sister into a hug. "Oh, Georgie, what are you waiting for? Let us go to Lambton as soon as can be. Your future sister is there."

The Darcy coach rolled to a gentle stop outside the Lambton Inn. A footman opened the door and lowered the step, then stood back to allow his master to alight and hand his sister down. Mr Darcy was impeccably dressed, wearing his best superfine coat, and would have cut an imposing figure if it were not for the look of anxious uncertainty on his face. Miss Darcy was dressed as befit a young lady who was not yet out. In contrast to her brother, however, her face displayed nothing but joy. She bounced a little on the balls of her feet as they followed a maid to the Gardiners' suite of rooms and waited for the door to be answered.

Mrs Gardiner's voice called for them to enter, and they were shown into a modest sitting room – one of the inn's best, but a degree below what Georgiana might have expected from the elegance of Miss Elizabeth's relatives.

Mr Darcy had no eyes for the décor. His gaze was instantly arrested by the sight of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who had risen to her feet to greet the visitors and was framed by sunlight streaming in through the window behind her. The effect was almost to give her a halo, and even as his eyes lingered on her beautiful features, a small part of Darcy's mind had time to recall his friend Charles Bingley's oft-repeated description of Elizabeth's sister as an angel. As he ascended the stairs, his anxiety had grown. How would she receive him? Would she regret the previous day, finding his offer too rash or her acceptance too impulsive? When the door opened and he beheld her standing bathed in light, looking at him with one eyebrow quirked and a smile on her lips, all his doubts fled. All he could think of was how beautiful she was, and how she had agreed to give him a second chance.

Georgiana giggled at Darcy's stupidity: He had been so impatient to reach Lambton that he had urged the coachman to press the team to speeds he would never have otherwise considered with his sister on board (truth be told, she rather enjoyed the ride!). He had alternated the whole way between a foolish smile and an anxious frown, never calm enough to settle into one or the other for more than a few moments. He had leapt from the carriage and handed her down with obvious impatience, and rushed up the stairs almost treading on the heels of the maid who guided them. Now, here he stood in the doorway, struck mute by the mere sight of his beloved. She gently nudged her brother to recall him to proper manners.

Darcy awoke from his preoccupation with a start. Blushing slightly, he bowed to Mr and Mrs Gardiner, and then to Elizabeth. His deep bow to that lady, slow and reverent, was followed by a greeting to all present and he stepped forward to allow Georgiana to enter the room behind him. She jauntily extended her greetings, before rolling her eyes and saying, "You must excuse Fitzwilliam. He seems a little distracted this morning."

Mr Gardiner laughed. "You must not be too hard on him, Miss Darcy. A man in love must be allowed the occasional lapse of concentration."

Darcy looked as if he did not enjoy being teased by his sister or by Elizabeth's uncle – that was a privilege he reserved for Miss Elizabeth herself – but, reminding himself of the need to demonstrate his improved manners, he smiled, if a little stiffly, and replied "On the contrary, Mr Gardiner. I think you will find it is my unwavering _concentration_ that led to my lapse in _courtesy_. Do forgive me."

Elizabeth had watched all this interaction with mixed amusement and embarrassment. Was this the shy Miss Darcy who was joking with her uncle? Was this the taciturn Mr Darcy who so openly admitted to his discourtesy? Could it be that he was so distracted by the sight of her that he lost the power of speech?

She stirred herself to welcome the two visitors and ask the maid, who still lingered in the hallway, to bring tea. Stepping forward, she took Georgiana's hands and led her to sit on a couch near the window. "I have looked forward to continuing our acquaintance Miss Darcy. It is so good of you to accompany your brother this morning."

Darcy discussed their plans with Mr and Mrs Gardiner. They intended to spend a day or two renewing acquaintances in the village, where Mrs Gardiner had spent many years of her childhood, and then to proceed with their sightseeing holiday. Darcy begged permission to accompany them to several of the local sights, offering his equipage for the purpose and suggesting that they start with an excursion to Dovedale on the day after next. He also secured their agreement to dine at Pemberley the day after that.

Mrs Gardiner proposed that the young people might enjoy each other's company that morning rather than Elizabeth attending her aunt on several visits to her childhood friends, persons entirely unknown to her niece. This suggestion was eagerly taken up by the Darcys, who pressed Elizabeth to let them show her the village. Elizabeth at first demurred, but was easily persuaded to change her plans for the day. With Georgiana present to act as chaperone, Mrs Gardiner saw no harm in the courting couple strolling the streets of Lambton or taking luncheon at the tea rooms.

Soon it was all arranged to mutual satisfaction, and the Gardiners left their niece and the Darcys to their own devices.

2017


	3. Chapter 3

It was a bucolic summer's day of the sort where green fields shimmer in the sun as though gilded with magic. A light breeze and the occasional fluffy cloud made strolling out of doors a delight despite the warmth of the sun. As the three young people wandered the quaint village of Lambton, nature was doing all it could to aid Darcy in his suit.

"I recall Miss Bingley once saying that Hertfordshire was nothing to the beauty of Derbyshire," remarked Elizabeth to Georgiana. "I admit, I had put her comment down to flattery of your brother, or at least to discontent with her current circumstances, but I must concede the lady spoke nothing more than the plain truth. Much as I love my own county, I have found Derbyshire delightful beyond my expectations."

Georgiana looked a little unsure how to answer such an overture. She knew enough of Miss Bingley to be familiar with the simpering manner in which she would praise Derbyshire whenever she thought William might hear her, and was loath to say anything that seemed to agree with that particular lady, but it was equally impossible for her to disagree with Miss Elizabeth's praise of the county. She settled for a gentle smile and saying, "I like my home very well indeed, and there are several uncommonly pretty places in the neighbourhood I would like to share with you."

Darcy seconded his sister: "You really must persuade the Gardiners to stay longer, Miss Elizabeth. A great lover of nature such as you should not come to Derbyshire without taking the time to see the best we have to offer. If you had the time, Georgiana and I would be delighted to show you Pemberley's hidden beauties, as well as taking you on some excursions. As well as Dovedale and Matlock, there are several places in the Peaks I think you would like exceedingly..."

As Georgiana delivered a sharp nudge to his ribs, Darcy realised he had begun to blather. Would he never have control of his tongue in this woman's presence? He deliberately closed his mouth and waited for Elizabeth to answer.

That young lady smiled happily, although she directed her attention more to the sister than the brother, saying, "I imagine that visiting the sights of Derbyshire in your company would be a delight, but perhaps we cannot fit in the _entire_ county before I must return to my family in Hertfordshire. I am at my uncle's disposal: his children are waiting faithfully at Longbourne and his business in London, so I could not in good conscience ask him to extend his holiday merely to satisfy my love of scenery. But perhaps you and your brother might visit Mr Bingley at Netherfield Park, and I could show you some of _my_ favourite haunts?"

Having met Miss Darcy, Elizabeth could no longer give the slightest credit to Miss Bingley's calumny that her brother – a man in his late twenties – harboured a tendre for this sweet child. She had no reason to fear that bringing the two into proximity would injure Jane's gentle heart. Nor would Miss Darcy be at risk of any mention of that scoundrel who had treated her so ill. The regiment had relocated to Brighton, taking all its young men with it, and Mr Wickham was hardly more likely to be mentioned in Meryton these days than any of the other officers.

Georgiana Darcy, who knew nothing of Miss Bingley's linking her name to Mr Bingley or of Mr Wickham's recent sojourn in Hertfordshire, was all eagerness. A trip to visit Miss Elizabeth's home would be a rare treat for a girl who travelled so rarely beyond her family's various estates, and the chance to spend more time in that lady's company would please both herself and her brother. Darcy looked less enthusiastic.

Elizabeth wondered whether his solemn visage reflected his earlier disdain for her family. It was easy enough to extend friendship to the Gardiners. After all, they were everything proper and dignified, as well as being intelligent and engaging company. It was another matter entirely to return to an intimate familiarity with the Bennet family. Was the gentleman now regretting his impulsive offer of a courtship, now that he was reminded just how embarrassing her family could be? Did he hesitate to expose his young sister to such impropriety as was sure to be found at Longbourn?

Her heart fell. Much as she had delighted in the renewal of Mr Darcy's addresses, much as she felt her own affections to be engaged, she could not reconcile herself to a lifetime of estrangement from her family.

She turned to her new friend, determined to let Georgiana down gently before she got carried away with her hopes for a visit. "Of course, we will not be home for some time yet, and I am sure your brother has many responsibilities at Pemberley that prevent him from travelling for pleasure at the drop of a hat." She gently withdrew her arm from Darcy's and clasped her hands behind her back as they walked on.

Darcy had been considering whether he could bring Georgie to Netherfield Park when George Wickham resided in the neighbourhood. Could he protect her gentle spirit from the shock of encountering him in the local society? Would all his efforts to protect her reputation be for nought if her obvious distress at such an encounter betrayed her history? It was too great a risk.

Yet how could he not follow Elizabeth wherever she went?

While these thoughts preoccupied him, Miss Elizabeth seemed to retract the invitation she had only just given, speaking more coolly than she had heretofore, and withdrawing from his touch. He roused himself from his musings to attempt to discover what had led to so sudden a change. He glanced anxiously at Elizabeth, trying to discern what she was thinking, but she had turned her visage determinedly towards his sister, allowing him only a glimpse of her chin beneath the brim of her bonnet. A sharp stab of anxiety pierced his heart: was his moment of felicity to be so very short? Had he somehow offended his beloved? Would she now withdraw her consent to a courtship?

Georgiana looked in confusion between her two companions. Moments before, they had behaved just as she imagined two people in love would conduct themselves. Elizabeth had displayed clear affection toward her brother, and his stumbling attempts to woo her had been endearing. But suddenly everything had changed. Elizabeth was clearly avoiding her brother, and _he_ now looked as though his heart had trampled by horses.

Well, she would not stand for it! They _obviously_ loved each other, and she would not let some misunderstanding get in the way of their happiness. Georgiana stopped, forcing Darcy and Elizabeth to stop with her. "What is it, Georgie?" her brother asked.

"Whatever terrible thing you are both imagining, stop it at once!" she cried, stamping her foot in anger. "I refuse to walk with two such stubborn mules. If there is a problem, then have the courtesy to talk about it, instead of stomping along as though I wasn't even here."

Elizabeth, more used to being challenged by younger sisters, was the first to recover from this attack. She tried to apologise for her inattention, assuring her new friend that everything was well, but her attempt at light-heartedness fell flat: she could not disguise the sorrow in her voice. Georgiana waved her protestations away, saying, "Then why are you no longer speaking to my brother? What did he do?"

Darcy was torn between chastising his sister for her rudeness, and desperately wanting to hear Elizabeth's answer. He looked wide-eyed from one to the other, trying in vain to think of a single thing he could say. His moment of hesitation ended when his sister rounded on him, demanding, "And you – what brought on so sour a face when Elizabeth suggested we visit Hertfordshire? Do you not want me to meet our future relations?" With sudden clarity, Georgiana's words revealed the true problem to him: Georgiana thought he was ashamed of her after her near elopement the year before, but Elizabeth, who knew he loved his sister unconditionally, would think he was unwilling to meet with _her_ family. Oh, what a tangle! How could he extract himself from their misunderstandings without mentioning that cad, Wickham?

With a groan, Darcy ran his hand through his hair distractedly, and decided it was better to be frank and deal with his sister's injured sensibilities if need be. He could not bear Elizabeth's pain a moment longer, even if it was based on wrong information. He looked earnestly from one to the other, meeting his sister's burning anger with his best big brother look, and sighing when Elizabeth looked aside to avoid meeting his gaze. "I think we might better discuss this somewhere less public. Would you ladies do me the favour of accompanying me to view the village's famous Spanish chestnut tree?" Without waiting for their reply, he set off at a brisk pace to a pretty green beside the smithy, where there was indeed an impressive chestnut tree.

Georgiana and Elizabeth exchanged a glance and, on Georgiana's part, a shrug, before following in his wake. Soon they were standing in the shade of the tree's spreading branches, several yards from the road.

Once satisfied that they were safe from prying ears, Darcy began by taking Georgiana's hand in his and pressing it gently. She was surprised by such a tender gesture after her earlier petulance, and looked to him in some trepidation. Elizabeth observed all this in silence, waiting for the gentleman to explain himself.

Darcy took a deep breath and said, "Once again it falls to me to apologise. My silence has allowed each of you to reach conclusions about my thoughts which have distressed you. My thoughts were indeed distressing, but I hope not in the way you might have supposed. I beg your indulgence in allowing me to explain myself, even though doing so necessarily requires me to raise subjects unpleasant to more than myself."

Elizabeth and Georgiana nodded, each prepared to have their unhappy suspicions confirmed, and waited him to continue. To Elizabeth's surprise, when he did speak, it was directed to Georgiana.

"When I was last in Hertfordshire," he began, "I encountered a person I had hoped never to meet again. I am sorry to distress you by mention of his name, my dear, but George Wickham had enlisted in the militia regiment stationed in Meryton. While I would love to accompany Miss Elizabeth to Hertfordshire, I could not take you where his company might be forced upon you without notice, where we might meet him in the village, or be invited to some party that he was also attending. You deserve to be protected from that man, and I will not take you within ten leagues of any place he can be found."

He turned to Elizabeth, not noticing the widening of Georgiana's eyes as she realised her brother had as good as told her new friend of her past shame. Fixing his eyes on his beloved, who had at last raised her eyes to meet his, he went on, "Miss Elizabeth, please believe me when I say I no longer hold those ridiculous views I expressed in Kent. I was an arrogant fool to think myself above your family. Society would divide us so, but you have taught me better. I am anxious, it is true, to once more meet your family and friends, but not because of any of those reasons I once asserted. I am only worried that I have left behind me so bad an impression that they will not be happy to see me again. I promise you, I will do everything I can to regain their good opinion, since everyone who is important to you is important to me."

Before Elizabeth could answer, she was distracted by Georgiana's gradual collapse to the ground. The distressed girl slumped to her knees, hiding her face in her hands, and quietly sobbed. Both Darcy and Elizabeth crouched down to offer her immediate comfort, despite not knowing the reason for her tears.

2017


	4. Chapter 4

It had all been going so well. She had put her own worries aside to care for her brother, and it had seemed that he at least had a chance for happiness.

Georgiana had learned to live with the shame of her own foolish actions.

A year before, she had been seduced. A wonderfully handsome and witty man had made love to her most eloquently and affectionately. He had told her everything a girl on the brink of womanhood wants to hear – how beautiful she was, how she had bewitched him and held his heart in her hand, how he could not live without her – had caressed her hand and even dared to kiss it when no one was looking - and he had convinced her to elope. It had all been so romantic. And so stupid.

Georgiana Anne Darcy _knew_ it was wrong. She had been raised carefully by people who loved her. She had been warned, as all girls are, of the danger to her reputation in allowing such attentions from a man. She knew she had a large dowry, and had been cautioned against rakes and fortune hunters. She had been taught to be proper and demure. Everything that George Wickham had suggested to her crossed those boundaries. Little by little, he had tempted her beyond the safety of those boring rules. He had flattered her and treated her with such consideration and tenderness that she had walked willingly into his trap.

William had told her again and again of all the reasons she was not to blame. And they were all true: George Wickham was a practiced seducer. He had fooled their father and many others (William had never said as much, but she knew from the way he averted his eyes and blushed that she was far from the first maiden to fall under Wickham's spell). Her own companion had said nothing against the affair – indeed had encouraged the attachment. She had been at the seaside, away from all her other friends and family. So she did not spend her time wallowing in guilt.

But she _did_ feel shame. For even with all those things arrayed against her, she should have known better. She realised now that when her brother had arrived in Ramsgate unexpectedly and she had excitedly shared her big secret with him, it had been no great surprise that he was horrified. Of course he was. The thought of his only sister throwing her reputation to the four winds and eloping at the age of fifteen was unbearable. When she considered it through his eyes, the sudden chill of consciousness had washed all her childish glee from her system in one rush. Even as the word "elope" left her mouth, she could not think of any excuse that might justify such rashness. How could she have held their family name so cheap? How could the man who said he loved her propose elopement instead of an honourable marriage? Georgiana was ashamed of herself within minutes of her reunion with William.

Then she had watched when George Wickham had arrived at her rented rooms. He had walked in confidently, all charm and smiles. He had not seen William when he arrived – her brother was hidden by the door as Wickham came in – but had immediately seen that Georgiana was upset. Awakened from her distracted infatuation, she was flushed and tearful, and looked at him with … he could not tell whether it was fear or simply shock. With the scales fallen from her eyes, she watched as he actually rolled his eyes before schooling his expression to one of sympathetic affection. "My dear Georgie," he said, "whatever is the matter?"

William had said, in an icy voice, "You will not speak to my sister, sir."

Later, Georgiana had even been able to giggle at the memory of how Wickham had jumped in shock. At the time, she was too distressed to find any humour in the scene. This was a man she had thought loved her. He had nearly leapt out of his boots, but cat-like, had recovered his balance immediately.

He did not look at Georgiana ever again. Not once. All pretence fell from his face as he glared at her brother (the very brother who, the day before, he had predicted would be delighted by their marriage) and spat, "Big brother to the rescue, I see. Damn you to hell, Darcy! I nearly had her secured. I could have lived very well of her fat dowry. But no, you have to come along and ruin everything! Well, _take_ your dreary little sister, for all I care. I am well shot of her."

Before anyone could speak, he had turned and fled the house. William had enfolded her in his arms and consoled her. He had spent months trying to mend what he assumed was a broken heart before she convinced him to visit Bingley in Hertfordshire. Her heart had not been broken. Wickham's cruel words had reinforced her conviction that she had been a complete fool, but it was her pride, not her heart, that suffered most. No longer could she believe herself to be sensible, reliable or even of good character. She knew herself to be a gullible fool who had risked her own reputation and her family's good name.

That Wickham had never loved her was more a comfort than otherwise, for at least she was the only person hurt by her stupidity. If he had been heartbroken, she would have suffered guilt as well as shame, but as it was, she found her heart echoed his. As soon as he revealed his true character, she realised she felt no love for _that_ George Wickham, and therefore had never loved a real man at all. Her suitor had been a dream, and now she was awake.

It had been a blow to her self-esteem, and for several months she had been in the doldrums. But when William had come home from Kent in a far worse state than she had ever been, she set her own cares aside to try to lift her brother's spirits. She could not indulge the memory of her own pain by playing hours of mournful music or writing scathing reflections in her journal when there was real pain right in front of her. She and William only had each other, and she was determined to rescue him as he had rescued her. And with her brother's wellbeing to focus on, her own worries had faded into insignificance.

It had not been easy. Of course, he would not tell her what was wrong. She had pestered the servants for information, finding out about his sleepless nights and watching him return windswept and wild eyed from long rides. Nothing she tried seemed to cheer him. As the weeks passed, he grew thinner and more distracted. She was at her wit's end.

But then he had found Elizabeth in the gardens, and had brought her into the house. Georgiana could see immediately that he was transformed in that lady's presence. And even better, Elizabeth was no snooty society lady – she was funny and open and friendly in a way that raised Georgiana's spirits as well as her brother's. It was as if a cloud had lifted from Pemberley and its inhabitants, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet had brought sunshine back into their lives. Georgiana had such hopes!

And it really _had_ been going so well.

But then William – her thoughtless, bumbling brother – had as good as announced to Elizabeth that his little sister was a ruined woman. He had spoken of Wickham in terms which could leave no doubt but that Georgiana had a history of some shameful sort with him. Had he no care for his own future, even if he was willing to throw her reputation to the winds? How could a gentlewoman such as Elizabeth – no, she should not think of her in such intimate terms any longer – how could a gentlewoman such as _Miss_ Elizabeth risk her own reputation by associating with someone like Georgiana? She might have liked William well enough, but could that withstand the knowledge that he was tainted by his sister's foolishness? To know that she had ruined her brother's hopes as well as her own was too much.

As the full impact of the situation sank in, Georgiana sank to her knees in tears of grief. Never, through all her regrets of the past year, had she wept as she did now.

She hid her face in her hands, and heard rather than saw her companions crouch down to try to comfort her. William drew her into his arms, just as he had done at Ramsgate, and Miss Elizabeth rested one hand gently on her shoulder while she murmured words of encouragement.

Bereft of hope, Georgiana continued to sob into her brother's shoulder. It was several minutes before she calmed enough to hiccough herself into silence, and considerably longer before she could raise her eyes to look for the disappointment that was sure to be displayed on Elizabeth's face.

© 2017


	5. Chapter 5

With four sisters, two of them very silly indeed, Elizabeth was well practiced in dealing with hysterical tears. She offered sympathy while it was of use in calming her young friend, but once that was accomplished, she felt a less saccharine dose was required to effect a cure. To Darcy's surprise and evident distress, instead of offering Georgiana further gentle words and reassurances, she caught her eye, raised an eyebrow in challenge, and said, "I will quote a very good friend of mine and say 'Whatever terrible thing you are imagining, stop it at once!' I have little enough time to spend with you both, and will not waste it while you weep for no reason, dear Georgie."

"No reason?" cried Georgiana. "Is it not good enough reason that I have lost your friendship, and my brother has lost his chance of happiness?"

"That would be reason indeed, and if it were so, I would join you in weeping, both for your pain and my own. But I see no cause for such grim expectations. Here we all are, talking together as good friends. No accident or war has separated us. We are not torn apart by storm or tempest. There is nothing threatening our friendship outside your imagination. Now tell me what it is that frightens you so." Her tone was commanding, just as she would use were she telling her youngest sister, Lydia, to stop behaving like a hoyden.

Georgiana had expected Elizabeth to make some polite excuse and depart as soon as possible to join her relatives. Instead, she was speaking to Georgiana as no one had since her father died, nearly six years gone. Not even her governess had spoken to her so shortly. The surprise shocked Georgiana into answering, even though what she said would no doubt achieve the very thing she was afraid of, and scare Elizabeth away.

"You would not want to be my friend if you knew everything. I did something very foolish last summer, and if anyone were to find out, I will be ruined, and all my friends will join in my disgrace. My poor brother's name will be tarnished, though he is entirely innocent. Is it not shocking indeed that a sister's sense of decency and virtue in such a point should admit of doubt? Yet it cannot be denied."

Relieved to find it was fear of rejection, and not tender feelings for Wickham, that had prompted Georgiana's tears, Elizabeth took Georgiana's hand and, standing herself, pulled her to her feet. "I _do_ know it all, my dear. When he realised Wickham was in Hertfordshire and had charmed his way into the good opinions of everyone there, your brother saw fit to tell me, in the strictest confidence, of his history with that troublesome fellow. I am sure he planned only to mention gambling and drinking and general carousing, but you see, I had formed such a strong reliance on Mr Wickham's goodness and Mr Darcy's badness, that he _had_ to tell me the most shocking thing before I would credit your brother with any motive other than spiteful jealousy. Do not reproach him for telling me. He was right to trust me with such a secret, for it protected me from Wickham's web of lies and seduction."

Georgiana looked from Elizabeth to William in wide-eyed shock. She could not decide whether to be angry with her brother, or relieved that her new friend was not decamping at speed. While she tried to find her footing in this new and uncertain world, William took her other hand. "My dear Georgie, please forgive me for telling another of your secret without first seeking your permission. I was so worried that Miss Elizabeth might be hurt just as you had been, and I knew her to be the most trustworthy of women."

In exasperation at her brother, Georgiana found her voice: "Oh, that is all very well, but could you not have at least written to me first? You swore _me_ to silence. It was not _your_ secret to tell, brother."

Elizabeth laughed, relieving the tension between the siblings. "You are right to chastise him, Georgie. But you must also _forgive_ him. The poor fellow needs to be able to talk about it with a trusted friend, just as you do. He could not dare tell anyone else, and I am honoured by his trust in me, that he chose me as the person to unburden himself to. I think he might have still been wallowing in grief if he had not been able to talk it through, and realise that his own guilt was nothing to Wickham's. Perhaps you need the same opportunity? I would be happy to hear anything you want to say about it all, or, if you would rather never think on it again, I would be happy to join you in never mentioning that man's name. Whatever you prefer. But do not insult me by suggesting that I would shun you, or your brother, just because you once made a mistake."

Georgiana managed a watery smile, while William looked on in somewhat awed amazement at the skill with which his Elizabeth had brought his sister out of her sorrow. He bowed slightly to both women, saying in the most humble tones, "I have been used to making decisions for everyone around me, and too little accustomed to seeking their opinions first. Perhaps it was necessary in the past, when you were too young, Georgie, and I had no other trusted friend on whom I could rely, but I see that I will need to change my ways now: there are now two young ladies in my life who will no longer allow me to ignore their views. You will doubtless need to remind me from time to time, as I am rather set in my ways, but I depend on you both to assist my reformation."

Georgiana looked pleased – this was the first time her brother had spoken to her as, if not precisely an equal, at least an adult whose opinions might be of value to him. Elizabeth, however, had blushed and looked demurely away. It took Darcy a moment to realise that his statement had assumed more than Elizabeth had yet granted him. To claim her as a fixture in his life was nothing more than his heart demanded – whether or not she eventually agreed to marry him, he would always value and respect Elizabeth's views – but she had not given him permission to speak of her in such a way. He cursed his stupid tongue: once again it had raced ahead without his permission. Would he spend the whole day apologising? He cast about for some way to retract his assumption of future intimacy without in any way suggesting he did not _wish_ for such a future.

As he drew breath to speak, Elizabeth gathered her courage to look up and meet his eyes. She was disconcerted, it was true, by the rapidity of this courtship and the rapidity with which her own feelings were becoming fixed in the gentleman's favour. But she refused to be missish, or to allow the circumstances to intimidate her. Georgiana had been correct: it was better for them to talk honestly than to allow misunderstandings to develop.

Darcy's face was anxious – clearly he was about to launch upon yet another apology – and her immediate instinct was to attempt to reassure him: "Peace, sir. You took me by surprise, it is true, but I will not pretend that imagining such a future is unpleasant. I am honoured to be treated with such respect, and admit that I have always seen mutual respect to be an essential element of any marriage. If our present path should lead in such a direction, Mr Darcy, your present assurances will do your suit no harm at all."

This was followed by a small smile, and suddenly it was Darcy's turn to blush. What an astounding woman she was! She had forgiven his impetuous presumption, had assured him that she was also thinking about what a future together might be like, and neatly avoided saying anything improper or committing herself to anything more than a continued courtship, all in a couple of short sentences! The more words failed him, the more she seemed to be a complete master of her vocabulary!

"I am glad to hear it, madam," he said, lost to time and place. He would happily have stood gazing at Elizabeth Bennet for several hours, but his sister, having recovered her spirits, was ready again to tease: "Thank you for showing us the chestnut tree, brother, but do you not think we should walk on now?"

With a slight start and a self-deprecating smile, Darcy offered an arm to each of his companions and led their little party back towards the Lambton High Street, where they chatted idly about items displayed in the shop windows and the Darcys exchanged memories of their childhood visits to the village.

When they passed the tea shop, Georgiana wheedled Darcy into taking them in for refreshments. In truth, he took little persuading, as any excuse to extend his time with Miss Elizabeth was welcome. The shopkeeper was alert to the honour of the Master of Pemberley entering her humble establishment, and proudly seated them at a table in front of her display window, so that anyone passing by might see her illustrious customers. Darcy and Georgiana accepted this without comment – seeing it as both their due and their obligation: as significant people in the community it was inevitable that the village's merchants would pander to their needs, and equally, it was appropriate for them to occasionally patronise such businesses to demonstrate their approval.

Elizabeth observed all this with interest. The same thing happened, of course, in Meryton, but on a much smaller scale, since none of the families in that vicinity were as prominent or as influential as the Darcys were in Lambton. She rolled her eyes slightly at the exaggerated welcome they received from their hostess, but approved of the quiet dignity with which Darcy and Georgiana carried themselves in the face of such treatment. She also noted that, while there was perhaps an excess of courtesy extended to her party, it did not cross the line into obsequiousness or fawning. Clearly Darcy and his sister were people of power and influence in the community, accepted the signs of respect that were the inevitable result, but neither expected nor demanded more than that. Unlike their aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh (who had provided her own exaggerated praise when others failed to do so, and who selected a parson for the living of Hunsford who was dedicated to flattering her at every opportunity), Georgiana and Fitzwilliam Darcy had, it seemed, none of that abominable pride which Elizabeth had once accused Darcy of.

She sipped her tea and thought once more of how unfairly she had abused him, and how glad she was to find he had forgiven her.

After a platter of tempting cakes and biscuits had been provided, the hostess retreated to a respectful distance, making herself busy in the back of the establishment. After looking about to ensure she could not be overheard, Georgiana surprised her brother by stating firmly, "Do not think that I am still distraught over _him_. I deeply regret my own actions, but I do not regret him. I was a fool to think that a little flattery and some handsome smiles were evidence of his love. I was a fool to think that my own enjoyment of being flattered was evidence of my own love. I have since had cause to reflect on true love, and I know that what I felt for that man was nothing of the sort. So I am not heartbroken, or pining for a lost love, or anything of the sort. I am merely very ashamed of myself, and very worried of what others will think of me should it ever become known."

Seeing that both her companions were about to interrupt her with reassurances, she rushed on, determined to say her piece before her courage failed her: "I _know_ you will tell me not to worry – I tell myself the same thing – but when I was caught unawares earlier, I could not help fearing that I would lose your friendship, Elizabeth. We have not known each other long, but I could not have borne it if you had scorned me, as many of my acquaintances would. And if I had been the cause of you rejecting my brother, I would never have forgiven myself. I am so very glad that you have not. I would like nothing so much as to have you for a sister." Georgiana smiled and pressed Elizabeth's hand, before continuing, "Forewarned that he is there, and knowing I have the support of both of you, I do not think I should let that man scare me away from visiting your home, Elizabeth. I must learn to hold my head up in society, and what better place to do so than Hertfordshire? I do not think him brave enough to approach me, but even if he did, he has no power over me now. So brother, _please_ may we go to visit Elizabeth when it is time for her to return home?"

© 2017


	6. Chapter 6

Darcy was far from reassured. He exchanged a worried glance with Elizabeth, unsure how to respond to his little sister. Georgiana had been through such extremes of emotion in the last half hour, none of them typical of the shy, quiet sister he was accustomed to: she had been impertinent, cheeky, demanding, distraught, resentful and now courageous. Would her bravery last? If he took her to Meryton and she suffered another collapse on encountering that cad Wickham, would she ever recover from the embarrassment? Would her reputation survive? After seeing Georgiana weeping inconsolably only half an hour before, he could not take the risk of assuming her current confident calm would be a lasting condition.

"I do not know if that is wise, my dear," he said gently. "Let us wait a few days before deciding."

Georgiana looked a little sullen at his prevarication, but Elizabeth spoke up quickly, once again diffusing the tension between the siblings: "Indeed, Mr Darcy, I am glad to see you fulfil your promise to take Miss Darcy's views into account before rushing to a decision. Of course, you must also consider _my_ opinion, and I am inclined to agree with you that after all the emotions the last two days have brought to all of us, it might be best to allow things to settle down a bit before we all make plans for the future."

"Oh!" Georgiana realised that it might not only be her own feelings that were at issue. She was already in the habit of viewing Darcy and Elizabeth's courtship as a settled thing. It had seemed only a matter of time before she would be welcoming them home to Pemberley as a married couple. She had forgotten that the lady herself had not yet agreed to such a conclusion, only to a courtship. "Of course we should wait."

The rush of events had been such as to prevent Elizabeth from imparting a key piece of information before, but in the silence following Georgiana's comment, she felt it an opportune time to put at least one of Mr Darcy's concerns to rest. "You must also allow that you do not always have all the relevant information, sir," she said. "As it happens, the regiment has left Meryton. I believe they have gone to Brighton for the summer, and I neither know nor care where they are to be billeted after that. They are not expected to return to Meryton, in any case. I would never have suggested that you and Georgiana visit were they still in residence."

Darcy sighed a great huff of relief. "In that case, I am certain that Georgie and I will have our trunks packed and be ready to accompany you and your aunt and uncle to Hertfordshire at a moment's notice!" he said.

Deciding a change of subject was called for, Elizabeth declared that while she found Lambton an enchanting village, and the Darcys most excellent guides, she suspected that their morning's stroll had exhausted its possibilities for exploration. "After we have finished here," she suggested, "might we gather some supplies for a picnic and take a stroll along the stream towards the woods I spied in the distance?"

Georgiana was enthusiastic, and Darcy, who had been pondering how he might possibly entice Elizabeth into continuing to walk with them now that they had already crossed the length of the village three times, was quick to agree. He suggested dispatching a footman to Pemberley to obtain a picnic basket, but Elizabeth decried such a plan. "Your poor cook! To supply a picnic for her master with sufficient notice I am sure would not test her at all, but to require her to conjure a picnic on the spur of the moment could only cause upset. The kitchen of a great house is a finely tuned machine, sir. Sudden demands throw careful plans into disarray. We will be easily able to shift for ourselves with just a few purchases, I am sure."

And with that, she led the Darcys to the bakery, the green grocer and the dairy, emerging triumphantly with a fresh loaf of bread, several apples and some carrots, and a wedge of hard cheese. "Do you have a knife on you, sir?" she asked Darcy. He confirmed that he carried a pocketknife about his person, and she was satisfied. She distributed the load, smiling when Darcy insisted on carrying it all, but not contesting the issue. "You may be our pack horse if you wish, Mr Darcy," she said, and gave him the bag of fruit and vegetables she had taken up to carry.

They walked for nearly an hour along the gentle stream that passed through one end of Lambton, strolling through well-tended paddocks and past two farmhouses. Darcy spoke knowledgeably about the farms they passed. He described the families, the crops and livestock they raised, where the estate boundaries lay, and how, when he had been two years of age, this usually placid stream had swollen to a raging torrent and swept away two cows and several fences. He spoke of the drainage and embankment works that all the surrounding landowners had contributed to in order to prevent such a disaster recurring, and expressed his heartfelt relief – even at such a distance from the event – that no lives had been lost.

Georgiana listened with interest – having spent several years away at school and then, after Ramsgate, having avoided leaving Pemberley as much as possible – she did not have her brother's encyclopaedic knowledge of the surrounding district, and was eager to learn more about her neighbours and tenants.

Elizabeth was pleased to see Darcy's obvious care for the people in and around his estate. He spoke of tenant farmers and small-holders as people worthy of respect and compassion. He might preserve the distinctions of class and position, but he clearly did not disdain those less fortunate than himself. Elizabeth could barely recall why she had ever thought him to be like his arrogant aunt. She had read haughtiness into his silence in company, contempt into his discomfort with strangers, and a satirical eye into his enamoured gaze at her. Oh, how badly she had mistaken his character! The man she had perceived through his letter, and the man she had come to know over the past two days, was at ease in his own place in the world, an engaging conversationalist, and obviously eager to please.

She liked this Mr Darcy very well indeed.

Eventually, they reached an area where natural beauty had been little counteracted by the hand of man: a broad meadow fringed by verdant forest sloped gently down to the banks of the stream. Elizabeth spied a grouping of stones, and suggested they would make a perfect place for their picnic. As they approached, she realised it was an ancient stone circle, left there by people long forgotten, or perhaps by fairy folk. Several of the stones had fallen, making comfortable benches on which to sit and spread their bounty.

They tore chunks of bread and deployed Darcy's knife to pare the apples and slice the cheese. It was simple fare, but satisfying, and they all ate heartily before Georgiana dispersed the last crumbs to a family of sparrows hopping hopefully nearby.

Darcy was pleasantly surprised that Elizabeth was happy with such a plain meal. He was used to much better, himself. A picnic at Pemberley was a fancy affair, involving servants, blankets, napkins, and several baskets of fine food prepared by the kitchens. Even when he took a snack with him on a long ride or a day of fishing, he was given a parcel containing cold meats, sweet buns, biscuits and other delicacies. He could not recall the last time he had dined on bread, cheese and apples. Yet the bread had been fresh, the apples crisp and the cheese sharp. He had shared it with the two people who meant most to him in the world, on a perfect, sunny day. He had seldom enjoyed a meal so much.

Perhaps it _was_ a fairy circle, or perhaps it was just the effect of exercise, food and good company, but the trio managed to set aside the difficulties of the morning and enjoy an idyllic afternoon, laughing easily in each other's company, chatting about the Darcys' experiences of school and London society and Elizabeth's childhood adventures in the fields and woods around Longbourn, discussing some of the sights to be seen in Derbyshire and Hertfordshire, and even talking about the pleasures of the seaside at Ramsgate. By the time they wandered back to the village to meet the Gardiners at the inn, Elizabeth and Georgiana were on a first name basis, and Darcy had convinced Elizabeth to begin calling him William.

While they had been out, some mail had been delivered, including two letters for Elizabeth. She had been a good deal disappointed in not finding a letter from her beloved sister, Jane, on her party's first arrival at Lambton; and this disappointment had been renewed on each of the mornings that had now been spent there; but now her repining was over, and her sister justified, by the receipt of two letters from her at once, on one of which was marked that it had been misspent elsewhere. Elizabeth was not surprised, at it, as Jane had written the direction remarkably ill.

While Darcy and Georgiana chatted amiably with the Gardiners, Elizabeth begged their indulgence to allow her to read her letters, and retired to a quiet corner of the room to enjoy them in peace. Darcy glanced indulgently at her preoccupation, imagining her engaged in just such an activity in the study at Pemberley, and returned his attention to a discussion of angling with Mr Gardiner.

The first letter, dated five days earlier, began with an account of all the little parties and engagements which her family had partaken of, and with such news as the country afforded; but the latter half, which was dated a day later, and written in evident agitation, gave more important intelligence. It was to this effect: their youngest sister, Lydia, who had lately removed for a holiday at Brighton in the care of Mrs Forster, wife of the Colonel of the Militia regiment so recently posted in Meryton, had run away in the night with Lieutenant Wickham. The foolish child had left a note claiming the intention of going off to Scotland to marry over the anvil.

A small gasp escaped Elizabeth, garnering the attention of the rest of the room, who looked to her with concern, but she was too preoccupied to notice. Without allowing herself time for consideration, and scarcely knowing what she felt, Elizabeth on finishing this letter instantly seized the other, and opening it with the utmost impatience, read it. It had been written a day later than the conclusion of the first, and contained even worse news: From a combination of intelligence garnered from Wickham's comrades in arms and Colonel Forster and Mr Bennet's investigations along the roads, it seemed that the Bennet family were not even to have the comfort of a daughter scandalously eloped. Instead, the couple had been traced so far as London, but not beyond. They had certainly not gone to Scotland. In the metropolis, all trace of their journey had disappeared. They had gone to ground and would be near impossible to smoke out. Wickham, it seemed, had never harboured any intention of marriage, and Lydia – impulsive, thoughtless Lydia – had placed herself entirely into his power.

Jane tried to find some hope in the situation, but Elizabeth, who knew more of Wickham's true character, could not credit the fanciful possibilities that Jane still clung to: that perhaps they had married privately in town, that Wickham must truly love Lydia for she had no fortune to tempt him, that Lydia could not be so lost to everything proper as to allow him to take liberties…

As she read the second letter, tears streamed silently down Elizabeth's cheeks, and on finishing it, she crumpled the parchment in her hand as she turned her grief-stricken face to her companions. "It is such dreadful news. It cannot be concealed from anyone. My younger sister has left all her friends – has eloped; has thrown herself into the power of – of Mr Wickham. They are gone off together from Brighton." Raising her eyes to meet Darcy's, she added, " _You_ know him to well to doubt the rest. She has no money, no connections, nothing that can tempt him to … she is lost forever."

Darcy and Georgiana were fixed in astonishment. The Gardiners were astounded that Elizabeth was airing such news in front of their visitors, but before anyone could speak, Elizabeth continued in a yet more agitated voice: "When I consider that I might have prevented it! I, who knew what he was. Had I but explained some part of it only – some part of what I learnt, to my own family! Had his character been known, this could not have happened. But it is all – all too late now."

"I am grieved indeed," cried Darcy; "grieved – shocked. But is it certain – absolutely certain?"

"Oh, yes! They left Brighton together on Sunday night, and their trail led almost to London but not beyond."

"And what has been done, what has been attempted, to recover her?" asked Mr Gardiner.

"My father is gone to London, and Jane has written to beg your immediate assistance; and we shall be off, I hope, in half an hour. But nothing can be done – I know very well that nothing can be done. How is such a man to be worked on? How are they even to be discovered? I have not the smallest hope. It is every way horrible! When _my_ eyes were opened to his real character – Oh! Had I known what I ought, what I dared to do! But I knew not – I was afraid of doing too much. Wretched, wretched mistake!"

Darcy made no answer. He seemed scarcely to hear her, and was walking up and down the room in earnest meditation, his brow contracted, his air gloomy. Mr Gardiner looked in confusion between him and Elizabeth, not certain why, even in her heightened distress on first reading the letters, his niece had shared such private family news with two comparative strangers.

All this while, Georgiana had sat slumped in her chair and white with shock. Mrs Gardiner was torn between tending to her niece or to her guest. As Elizabeth seemed to have the undivided attention of Mr Darcy and Mr Gardiner at the moment, she decided her efforts might be best directed to Miss Darcy, and she did her best to distract and comfort her, while the gentlemen continued to question Elizabeth and ponder their options.

Darcy was the first to speak again. "I must accompany you to London, Mr Gardiner. I may be of assistance in locating Wickham as I know of some of his associates, and am familiar with his usual haunts."

"Are you, indeed, sir? I will not ask how. But surely you could simply supply me with the details? This is a family matter, Mr Darcy. I admit I am not eager to bring someone so little connected with the Bennets into a search. Take a moment to think: this scandal may put an end to any prospect of furthering your courtship with Lizzy. If you will cry off as a result, I would rather you left us to our own devices now. Are you willing to see this through, whatever the outcome, sir?"

© 2017


	7. Chapter 7

Darcy bristled at the frank challenge in Mr Gardiner's tone, but had to concede the reasonableness of the question. Two years ago, before Georgiana's own brush with disgrace, before he had met and been humbled by Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the old Darcy might well have turned tail at such a scandal. But that was then, and this was now. _Now_ he knew the pain of trying to live without Elizabeth by his side. _Now_ he knew that even the best young ladies could be deceived by Wickham's charm. _Now_ he recognised that his own silence was as much to blame as Elizabeth's, for if she could have warned her sisters, how much more could he have done to warn the world against trusting the cad?

 _Now_ , his path was clear, and it led to Elizabeth, however difficult the twists and turns on the way.

Straightening his shoulders, he glanced first at Georgiana and then at Elizabeth before facing Mr Gardiner to say, solemnly, "I assure you, sir, that I will _never_ cry off. My heart is irrevocably tied to that of Miss Elizabeth, and I am determined to become much more closely connected with the Bennet family than I presently am. I will do everything I can to restore happiness to Elizabeth and to her family, and as chance would have it, I am probably better placed in the current circumstances to do so than any other person. I _will_ be of use to you and Mr Bennet, and I _will not_ abandon my suit."

Mr Gardiner looked him coolly in the eye for a long moment before nodding sharply and reaching out to shake Darcy's hand. "Welcome to the family, then, son, though of course you will have to win our Lizzy's consent first."

Elizabeth had recovered somewhat of her composure during this exchange, although Darcy's fervent avowal of his intentions brought a fresh glow to her cheeks. She raised a tear-stained face to him and smiled shyly, but said nothing before taking Georgiana's hands in her own, pulling her gently to her feet, and enclosing her in a hug. "My dear Georgie, how difficult this must have been for you to hear. I am so sorry for telling such news before I thought of your comfort."

Spurred by the need to comfort her future sister, Georgiana found her voice: "Don't be silly, Lizzy. I am stronger than you seem to think. I am only sorry for your sister. But I must hurry home to pack, so we can be on the road as soon as possible. Will you stay with us at Darcy House? We could travel from there to Hertfordshire once everything is settled. Oh, but you will not see Dovedale as we had planned."

Smiling at her young friend's distracted jumping from one subject to another, Elizabeth answered calmly, "You must speak with your brother as to whether you will travel with us or wait at Pemberley. We will be travelling hard, I think, to reach town as soon as possible. I will stay with my family near Cheapside, to be of most help to my father and uncle, but I do thank you for the courtesy of your invitation. I hope to see Darcy House another time, under better circumstances. As for the delights of Derbyshire, I will have a lifetime to explore those with you, my dear friend. You must apologise to Dovedale for my having slighted it on this trip!"

Both young ladies managed a tremulous smile at this whimsy, and the party separated in order to pack to set off at first light the next morning, as too much of the day had already passed to make immediate departure practical.

As he accompanied Georgiana back to Pemberley, Darcy was silent, but his mind whirled: One moment he was planning how to go about finding Wickham, the next he was wondering whether it would be too late to save Miss Lydia from marriage to a man who could only make her unhappy, and then his thoughts would circle back to Elizabeth's parting words to Georgiana.

 _"_ _As for the delights of Derbyshire, I will have a lifetime to explore those with you,"_ she had said. A lifetime. Did she mean what he hoped she meant? Had she been thinking of a lifetime as Mrs Darcy? Could she have warmed towards him so quickly? It was only the day before that she had agreed to a courtship. He cursed Wickham for interrupting his chance to win her heart: a hurried trip to London, and for such a purpose, was hardly the best opportunity for courting a lady.

A new thought struck him cold: As soon as Elizabeth had spoken of her own sense of culpability, he had realised that his own silence was more at fault than hers: if only he had been more open when he had been in Hertfordshire, had lowered himself to explain his dislike for Wickham and expose something of that man's character, Lydia Bennet would have been safe from his machinations. Now he realised it may have cost more than Miss Lydia's reputation. It may have cost him his only chance of happiness as well.

Elizabeth had been in the first throes of distress over her sister's predicament when she spoke of a future in Derbyshire. She was too kind-hearted to attribute blame to another so quickly, but how long would it be before she thought to resent him for his part in her sister's downfall? Would realisation that merely by being less arrogant and more thoughtful of the feelings of others, he might have saved her beloved sister from Wickham's charms, drive her to hate him? Had he been right after all to think his happiness was a mere dream, from which he would wake to find his heart more broken than ever?

Georgiana watched her brother sink into a gloom that was only too familiar to her. She knew he had been hurt by her near-elopement with Wickham, and now Wickham had succeeded with one of his future sisters what he had so narrowly failed to achieve with Georgiana. She was determined to help him face this new challenge, and if at all possible, to help this Miss Lydia, who would soon enough be her own sister. Who else could possibly understand as well as Georgiana the pain of realising that George Wickham had exploited their innocent affection for his own selfish ends?

But they would never get anywhere if William sank back into the state of unhappy silence in which he had lived the past few months. At the least, she could force him to speak. She would not let him carry this burden alone.

"Which carriage will we take, brother? I suppose the smaller one would be easier on the horses and enable us to travel faster. Will you be sending horses ahead tonight, or take a second team in train?"

Her brother looked startled to be addressed, but quickly gathered his wits, and began to deny her the journey: "Miss Elizabeth was right to say we will be travelling hard, Georgie. I think it best if you wait here …" but she interrupted angrily: "I will not be left behind. I will not sit at Pemberley worrying myself sick and waiting for letters to find out what is happening. This affects me as well, and I _will_ be coming with you. Who else is going to convince Miss Lydia that Wickham is a scoundrel? Do you think she will believe _you?_ She _might_ listen to Elizabeth, I suppose, but she might not, either. Wickham will already have tried to poison her against her family."

Darcy was astounded. His little sister – the very Georgiana who had retreated into her shell after her encounter with George Wickham – was volunteering to help rescue another young maiden from his clutches. He was torn between pride in her generosity and bravery, and fear for her well being in such an endeavour. Considering the determined look in her eye, he decided to let her come to London. He could more easily keep her from doing anything foolish if she were under his eye, and it would give him a few more days to encourage her to caution before there was any prospect of finding Wickham and Lydia.

"Very well, then. You may accompany us to London. But this does not mean you have my permission to meet with either Wickham _or_ Miss Lydia. If you are to come, you must agree to follow my instructions when the time comes. In return, I will promise to listen to any suggestions you make about how we should act. Are we agreed?"

This was more than Georgiana had expected, and she readily consented to his conditions.

"Besides," he added, "by the time we reach London, even assuming we can locate them quickly, Miss Lydia will have been alone with Wickham for several days. She may have no option but to marry him. If that be the case, would it be a kindness to open her eyes to his true character, or would she be happier still believing his lies?"

"You are still thinking of her as the child she no doubt was a week ago, brother. Whatever else happens as a result of her elopement, she has left her childhood behind her. She is a woman now, and must take responsibility for what she has done. It is no kindness to let her pretend a lie. We know what he is. He has already betrayed her trust by luring her into an elopement. Even if he holds her in some affection, as soon as the money gets tight, he will betray her trust again. She has the right to know the truth. She has to have the opportunity to prepare for his betrayal."

They fell into an uneasy silence, both contemplating the truth of Georgiana's assessment. It was a sombre pair who alighted from their coach at the door to Pemberley. The staff who had watched their master leave that morning in the height of good humour were dismayed to see him return apparently under the same cloud that had dogged him for months. They were not given time to wonder at this transformation, however, as he set them to work immediately, preparing for he and his sister to leave for London early on the morrow.

Elizabeth had watched from the inn window as their coach pulled away. She did not know what to think. Her poor sister was lost, and in the hands of the worst man she had ever had the misfortune to meet. The knowledge that she might have prevented the catastrophe if she had disclosed some part of what Darcy had told her about Wickham tormented her. She worried for Jane and her father and mother. She even worried for Mary and Kitty, whose sheltered lives had never exposed them to the humiliation which must now be their lot if they ventured into Meryton.

But overshadowing all these worries was the look on Mr Darcy's face when he had heard the news. Oh, he had been every inch the gentleman. He had stood by his offer of courtship, had resolved to help in finding Lydia, had spoken so warmly of his intention to connect himself more closely with her family. But she had seen his initial shock. He had paced the room in silence, clearly shaken by the impropriety of her sister's action. Once he had time to consider – to think about what such a connection must mean for himself and for Georgiana – surely her power would sink; everything _must_ sink under such a proof of family weakness, such an assurance of the deepest disgrace. She could neither wonder nor condemn, but the knowledge that she must lose his affections was exactly calculated to make her understand her own wishes; and never had she so honestly felt that she loved him as now, when all love must be vain.

It was with bitter regret for lost opportunities, combined with the deepest anxiety for her youngest sister, that Elizabeth mechanically ensured everything was ready for a quick departure the next day, and retired to her bed, where she eventually succumbed to a restless sleep, disturbed by dreams of what might have been.

© 2017


	8. Chapter 8

Darcy sat on the rear-facing seat while Elizabeth and Georgiana shared the forward-facing one. It was the second stage of their first day of travelling, and while they waited for the horses to be changed, Georgiana had enthusiastically invited Elizabeth to join her in the Darcy carriage: "It is so dull travelling with William when he is distracted. You must come and save me from boredom!" Elizabeth had not known how to refuse her friend, so had somewhat nervously agreed to change conveyances for the next leg of the journey. So there she was, sitting in front of him, however reluctantly.

"I must thank you, sir, for the trouble you are undertaking to help my family." Elizabeth's voice was uncharacteristically subdued.

Darcy was unsure what to make of her manner, but it seemed to confirm his fears: Elizabeth wanted to distance herself from the man who had failed to warn her and her sisters against the villain Wickham. Perhaps he ought to respect her decision, but his heart clamoured for him to win her back. He knew what life without her was like, and he would overcome any obstacles to convince her to forgive him. Speaking boldly had served him well at Pemberley. He would have to trust that it would do so again.

"Miss Elizabeth," he said, his voice gruff with emotion, "no thanks are necessary. Of course I will do whatever I can for a family I hope hereafter to call my own. But more than that, surely you must know that I cannot rest until I have brought a smile back to your face. Your happiness is my first concern."

Elizabeth felt as if a weight had been lifted and she could breathe freely again for the first time since reading Jane's letters. Fitzwilliam Darcy, it seemed, had no intention of withdrawing his suit. Was this merely the politeness of a gentleman's honour overriding his underlying distaste for the alliance? She could not think so: his earnest look, his meaning tone, everything spoke of his sincerity. He really did care for her happiness and think of her family as soon to be his own. She recalled Georgiana's words of the day before: _"Whatever terrible thing you are both imagining, stop it at once!"_ Her worries had been for naught.

He had been solemn and withdrawn the evening before, quiet and anxious this morning, but whatever demons plagued him, it seemed that he had not yet learned to regret his choice. Still, she would not teach her heart to hope again until she knew he had really considered the consequences of Lydia's folly. Meeting Darcy's hopeful gaze, she took a deep breath and said, "I admit I am glad to hear it. But I cannot express how distressed I am to be the means of bringing that man back into your lives. I wish my sister had been more sensible, but she is very young, and we all know him to be most persuasive when he tries. But however it came about, the best we can now hope for is that Mr Wickham will soon be my brother. Is that _really_ the family you wish hereafter to call your own? Will you not come to regret the connection? Please think carefully now, for I would rather we make a clean break immediately than to try to untangle my heartstrings from yours later when your present affections are eaten away by the daily reminders of his presence in your family."

Georgiana was clearly about to jump in with reassurances, but her brother silenced her with a stern glance. He recognised the seriousness of Elizabeth's concern, and despite the temptation to dismiss them out of hand, and perhaps distract her with a kiss to her hand, she deserved a considered answer. "I do not pretend to be delighted by the prospect of George Wickham as a brother. But this is not the first time I have had to carefully consider the consequences of having that man in my family: as you know, it is a prospect I have faced before. I decided then that had he succeeded in his scheme and married my sister, I would never shun her because of him. I could not give him that power over my life. I know who is dear to me, and they shall remain dear to me regardless of his machinations. I _have_ thought carefully, Elizabeth, and I know beyond any shadow of a doubt that the only think I could come to regret would be letting you go. My heartstrings are already so closely bound with yours that if we are parted, I would take to bleeding internally, and would spend the remainder of my days in misery. You are my happiness, Elizabeth. Nothing can change that, and certainly not George Wickham!"

"Well then," she rewarded him with the smile he had wished for – perhaps not so wide and carefree as those of the afternoon before, but a smile nevertheless – "let us agree to do what constitutes our own happiness, without reference to any person so wholly unconnected with us." She was rewarded by seeing Darcy smile in return, and Georgiana clap her hands in delight.

Then, with a raised eyebrow, Elizabeth added "Is there any chance, do you think, that we may contrive to keep him unconnected to us? Is there any way to save Lydia from being trapped in wedlock with that man?"

Conversation turned for a time to what they might expect to find in London. In consideration of Georgiana's age, Darcy and Elizabeth tried to avoid discussion of whether or not Lydia might have lost her virtue, but Georgiana raised the subject herself, reminding them that she had nearly found herself in the same situation but a year before. "I know more than most girls my age about the consequences of an elopement, brother," she chided. "Don't pretend that you did not await news of my courses with bated breath after Ramsgate, even though I assured you he had not yet transgressed so far."

Darcy blushed, unused to discussing such matters with his much younger sister, let alone with the gentlewoman he was wooing. "I trusted your word, Georgie, truly I did. But I was haunted by the possibilities – by how much worse it _could_ have been."

His little sister, with a maturity and wisdom he still found surprising, patted his hand comfortingly and said, "I understand, William. Do not distress yourself. While we are _supposed_ to remain all maidenly innocence, most girls learn at least the basics at about the same time our courses start. We don't talk about it in front of boys, of course, so as not to upset your delicate sensibilities, but women and girls have to deal with the evidence of our own fertility, and it is only natural that we are less squeamish about such matters than you menfolk. So yes, I do know what the consequences can be of laying with a man. I do know that if Miss Lydia has allowed Wickham such liberties it could not be hidden from any future husband, even if he has not got her with child. I do know that if Wickham does not marry her, her options will be very limited, and that unless her reputation is salvaged through wedlock, her sisters may also be tainted by association. So talk freely, please. Do not speak in riddles for the sake of _my_ delicate ears!"

Elizabeth was delighted by her young friend's impudence, and enjoyed the look of dawning horror on Darcy's face as he listened to his little sister discuss such matters. "Georgiana, dear," she admonished, laughingly, "it is not polite to discuss such matters in mixed company."

"Of course I know _that_ , Elizabeth. But we are not in _mixed_ company now. It is only William, and if we are to be ready for the task ahead of us in London, we must be able to speak frankly. I just wanted to reassure him that I would not be shocked." Despite her confident words, Georgiana looked nervously at Darcy, clearly expecting a reprimand.

" _You_ might not consider your brother to be mixed company, but I am afraid _I_ do," Elizabeth pointed out. "But you have let the cat out of the bag now, I suppose, and he will no longer harbour any illusion that either of us is quite as demurely ignorant as gentlemen would have us be."

Darcy had somewhat recovered his equilibrium during this banter, and decided it was better to overturn his sister's expectations than to play the stern elder brother. After all, she was correct that everything would be easier if they could speak frankly. "I am pleasantly surprised by your revelation, Georgiana. It was my fear of speaking of such things openly with you that left you vulnerable to Wickham last year. I should have told you what a reprobate he was, rather than stupidly trying to protect your sensibilities. If I had known that young ladies already talk of such matters, I should have told you about the string of natural children he has left about the country, and certainly would have warned you of his gambling and drinking."

"Well, that is all water under the bridge," replied his sister, firmly. "We have another young lady to protect now, and we really must turn our minds to how best to meet the situation in London, whatever it may be by the time we arrive."

Darcy and Elizabeth both saw the sense of this, and they resumed their discussion of what circumstances they might expect to find Lydia in, this time with less circumlocution and greater openness about the risks and dangers that young lady would face. Eventually, Darcy summarised their various speculations as follows:

"If they have not married but _have_ anticipated their vows, which is the most likely circumstance, then there are several possibilities. If she is with child, then she must either marry Wickham (if he can be convinced to do so) or find another man willing to take her. Or she could be sent somewhere out of the way until after the child is born, and it could be fostered out. That would give rise to speculation, of course, and she could never marry without revealing the truth to her future husband, but she might at least be able to return to her family eventually. She could, of course, choose to keep the child, passing herself off as a young widow, but not without a complete break from her former acquaintances, and not without resulting speculation and rumour haunting her sisters.

"If she is _not_ with child, she might still marry Wickham, of course, but if she can be convinced to leave him, it might also be possible to maintain the fiction that she has simply been visiting your aunt and uncle. Once again, were she ever to consider marrying someone else, she would not be able to disguise the fact that she was no longer a maiden.

"If, by some miracle, they have _not_ anticipated their vows, then it will simply be a matter of buying Wickham's silence and concocting a believable cover story for Miss Lydia's departure from Brighton.

"Of course, much depends on Miss Lydia's wishes, and on how the situation has been handled in Brighton and at Longbourn, and whether rumours of her elopement have already spread."

Georgiana and Elizabeth acknowledged the accuracy of this summary, and speculated for a while on whether there was anyone else who might be persuaded to marry Lydia who would offer her a better future than being tied to Wickham. Elizabeth thought that Captain Denny might once have been interested, but doubted his affections could have survived the blow of Lydia eloping with one of his fellow officers. She knew of no-one in the vicinity of Longbourn who was a likely candidate, nor who could be trusted to keep the secret. Georgiana's circle of male acquaintance was so small as to make her of little assistance in the conversation other than to offer polite murmurs of assent to Elizabeth's musings. Darcy kept his own counsel: though the conversation sparked some ideas about approaching Major Smithson and Lieutenant Gilchrist, men he had met through his military cousin and learned to respect and trust, to ask if they might know of any likely candidates – after all, Miss Lydia did like a man in uniform – but he was unwilling to raise Elizabeth's hopes on that front without better knowledge of whether they might be of any use.

Elizabeth added the last unknown factor in these various equations – one on which Darcy had deliberately remained silent: "and on whether Wickham can be brought up to scratch, or bought into silence. I suspect that between my father and my uncles, there will be a great gathering of resources as we speak, but I cannot think it just that such a man be rewarded for his perfidy!"

"No, indeed," was all that Darcy had to say on that subject. He had already determined to contribute whatever was needed, but did not wish to make Elizabeth uneasy on that account. "Let us wait and see what awaits us in London, then. I believe we have canvassed the possibilities to the best of our ability with the limited information available. But please remember, Elizabeth, that there are more ways of working upon that man than money. He is ever alert to his own interests, and we may be able to convince him that his silence serves his interests without calling too much on your family's resources.

"But until we find them, we cannot predict just how that might come about. So let us speak of other things." With a transparent attempt to divert his two companions from their sombre musings, he asked, smiling "What think you of books?"

© 2017


	9. Chapter 9

Over the journey, Elizabeth took turns travelling with the Darcys and the Gardiners. Conversation never strayed for long from speculation about Lydia's situation, and various plans for finding her and saving her reputation.

None of it came close to what they found on arrival in London.

Both carriages pulled up to the Gardiners' house in Gracechurch Street, expecting to find Mr Bennet in residence and make some plans for the next day's search before the Darcys repaired to Darcy House in Mayfair. They arrived almost in tandem, and the passengers alighted at the same time, stretched their weary limbs, and the Gardiners led the way to the front door, which was opened by their butler before they knocked – their arrival had clearly been eagerly awaited.

Mr Bennet was indeed in residence, but he was not alone. When they entered the parlour, they found the Bennet patriarch, his youngest daughter, Lieutenant Wickham, Captain Denny and an unknown young woman, all arrayed (except for Wickham, who looked pensive) with every appearance of good humour.

Elizabeth rushed to her sister's side. "Lydia," she cried in relief, "you are well?"

"Of course, Lizzy," she replied, somewhat smugly, "I am very well indeed." She turned to the man sitting uncomfortably beside her, saying, "You remember Lieutenant Wickham and Captain Denny, of course. May I introduce you to my good friend, Mrs Cecelia Charlton. Cecelia, this is my sister, Miss Elizabeth and my Uncle and Aunt, Mr and Mrs Gardiner." Turning back to a bemused Elizabeth, she added, as though this explained everything, "Mrs Charlton is Captain Denny's sister, you see."

"Indeed," Elizabeth curtseyed politely to the Captain and his sister, and nodded shortly to Wickham, before stepping forward from where she had stopped in the doorway, enabling the rest of her party to enter the room. "Mr Darcy, Miss Darcy, may I present Captain Denny of the _shire Militia and his sister, Mrs Charlton. Captain Denny, Mrs Charlton, this is Mr Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire and his sister, Miss Darcy. Miss Darcy, this is my father, Mr Bennet and my youngest sister, Miss Lydia." Polite nods were exchanged. Elizabeth pointedly did not introduce Wickham, and neither he nor the Darcys acknowledged the presence of the other, although Wickham's eyes widened in obvious surprise.

Introductions, however unexpected, now complete, Elizabeth turned to her father. "Perhaps you should tell us what has happened, Papa?"

Mr Bennet had risen and was waiting for the formal introductions to conclude before taking his favourite daughter into a welcoming hug. "It is very good of you to cut your holiday short in order to join us in London, Lizzy. And," looking up to the other new arrivals, "you as well, Gardiner, Maggie. And while I admit I am surprise to find you here, Mr Darcy and Miss Darcy, you are most welcome. Please, take a seat everyone and we will tell you all."

There was a minute or two of bustling activity, as it was necessary to bring in two extra chairs from the hallway to provide a seat for everyone, but at last the party was settled, in various aspects of curiosity and anxiety. That Georgiana was dismayed to find herself so suddenly in the presence of George Wickham was evident to those who knew her well, although she valiantly tried to mask her feelings. Darcy and Elizabeth were both anxious for her, and exchanged a speaking glance before settling in seats on either side of Georgiana, ready to protect her from the need to take an active part in the conversation. Darcy itched to haul Wickham outside where he could give him the drubbing he deserved, but would not allow that man to drive him to violence. Instead, he sat stiffly in his seat, one juddering leg revealing his nervous tension. Elizabeth, wanting to reassure her beloved and his sister but unable to extend them more than common courtesy in public, was consumed with curiosity as to what had brought this particular collection of souls together in her Uncle's front parlour.

She was surprised that, instead of providing an explanation himself, Mr Bennet deferred to his youngest daughter. "Lydia, my dear," he began, "It is your story to tell."

Lydia, who had been bouncing with impatience, and showed not one jot of contrition for her actions, was happy to oblige. With shining eyes and cheerful countenance, she recounted a remarkable series of events:

"Oh, Lizzy, you will never guess! I had such a wonderful time in Brighton. You would not believe the balls and parties! I was ever so popular and danced every dance. I told you I would be the first of my sisters to marry, and so I shall. I had no less than four proposals, Lizzy. Four! And now I am to marry the very best of men. It is everything wonderful. But I shall tell you everything.

"I had not been in Brighton long before I realised that there was really only one gentleman in the Regiment who I truly admired. Luckily for me, he liked me, too. Of course, we could not say anything until he had an opportunity to speak to my father, and that could not happen until he had leave, but it was settled between us that we would become engaged just as soon as possible, and that we are to be the happiest people on earth. My dear Mr Denny is a gentleman, and wanted to do everything properly."

At this point in the narrative, Lydia broke off to exchange an affectionate glance with the officer in question, giving her audience a moment to recover from the surprise that it was Denny and not Wickham she was engaged to. Elizabeth could not help but say, "But we heard that you had eloped with Lieutenant Wickham?"

Lydia laughed merrily. "Oh, you should not believe everything you hear, Lizzy. That was just a little misunderstanding. Wickham _wanted_ to elope – he pressed his point most enthusiastically – but I am not a fool. Even if my heart were not already engaged to another, I would never elope. It might sound romantic in the novels, but in real life, it would be absurd. Why would I consider marriage to a man who would not approach my father for his consent? Why would I give up the chance for a grand ceremony in front of all my friends? Why would I risk bringing disgrace upon myself or my sisters? Why on earth would I want to marry without a proper settlement signed to protect my and my children? And why would I want to travel from one end of the country to the other, alone with a single gentleman impulsive enough to suggest elopement, in the hope that when we got to the other end he would still want to marry me? No. Captain Denny had taught me how a true gentleman acts. A gentleman does not propose to run away with his beloved, to separate her from her family and all her friends, or to run the risk of ruining her reputation should anything happen to him before the ceremony. I hope I know better than to elope with _anyone_ , let alone with _Wickham_."

"Then what happened?" asked Elizabeth, sneaking a glance at Georgiana, who had pinked slightly and was staring fixedly at her hands, but was otherwise composed.

"Be patient. I will tell you the whole story," replied Lydia, obviously relishing being the centre of attention. "Two days after Denny and I had reached an understanding – it was still secret at this point, you understand – Colonel Forster threw a ball. Of course, I wore my very best gown and danced the first with my dear Denny, but it was a grand affair, and I danced with many of the officers. Between dances, I was chatting with a group that included Lieutenant Wickham, and mentioned that you were gone to Derbyshire on holiday, Lizzy, and what a lark it would be if you were to bump into Mr Darcy there, for you clearly did not think so badly of him now as you once did. Wickham requested the next set, after which he led me out onto a balcony to get some fresh air. I knew his reputation with the ladies, so was sure to keep in good sight of the other couples who had likewise come outside. He tried to lead me further into the garden, but I was adamant that I would stay in view of the ballroom in case the next set began.

"It was then that he turned all his famous charm on me. He was very impressive – all smiles and delicate compliments – I suppose he practices them, just like cousin Collins – and then he told me his life depended on my returning his love, that he could not bear to be apart from me a moment longer than was absolutely necessary, and begged me to leave that very night with him for Scotland. It was everything I could do not to laugh in his face. I answered as though I was flattered, prevaricated, said I needed time to consider his suit, and told him he would have his answer before the ball was over. He was not happy – I think he is used to his victims being flattered by his attentions into immediate compliance, and obviously the more time a girl took to think about such a proposal, the more holes she would see in it – but apparently the prize was worth the wait, so he agreed to give me time to consider my answer.

"I consulted Mr Denny about what to do, and together we devised a plan. I stepped outside again, and leant against a wall under a window, where I could hear but not be seen. My Denny approached Wickham and brought him to the window for a confidential chat. ' _You seem to be getting on very well with Miss Lydia,'_ he said. Wickham must have seen something of the admiration Denny had for me, for he answered most compassionately. _'Denny," he said, his voice dripping with false sympathy, "the chit is not for you. She has no fortune, no connections, nothing that can compensate you for her vapidity. Do you not remember what an embarrassment her mother is? All she ever does is giggle and flirt. You deserve something better, my friend.'_ You can imagine that I was tempted to storm back into the room and give him a piece of my mind. But we had a sweeter revenge in mind, and so I waited. Denny asked what Wickham planned, then, if he thought so little of me. Wickham explained quite openly that he planned to ruin me – his words were not so polite, but I will not repeat them. Denny had to resist the urge to call the cad out, but he is a gentleman, and managed to restrain himself to play his part. He pressed Wickham for further details, and that man over there told him everything. He depended on their friendship and revealed his plans.

"It wasn't even about _me_. It was about you, Lizzy, or more precisely, about _Mr Darcy_. Wickham thought that Mr Darcy admired you. Not that he would ever offer for you, of course, but still, he would suffer if Wickham could hurt the object of his affections. You were out of his reach, but if he managed to steal my virtue and ruin my reputation, all my sisters would be ruined along with me. He thought it a jolly fine plan, since he could hurt Mr Darcy and have some – "fun", he called it – with me before abandoning me at some staging post on the road north."

There were gasps of shock from around the room, and all eyes turned to the ashen face of George Wickham. He had not previously understood that his scheme had been exploded from the outset. To hear his clever machinations recounted with such dismissive scorn by a young lady he had thought a mere pawn in his game, to realise a man he had thought his confederate was actually his enemy, brought home the full reality of his situation. Until now, he had harboured some hope that he could salvage something from the mess that his 'elopement' with Lydia Bennet had become. Now it was clear that he was the one who had been played. He squirmed in his seat, looking for an opportunity to escape, but he was seated as far as possible from the only doorway, with several people between him and it who would doubtless enjoy the chance to impede his exit.

Lydia continued, warming to her tale and enjoying having the undivided attention of the whole room. "I was insulted, to be sure, but hardly surprised. Wickham had quite the reputation among the ladies attached to the regiment. Several had been importuned by him, and others had lost servants to his predations. He was everything charming when he wooed them, but quite heartless when he left them. His inconstancy and selfish disregard for the feelings of others were well known among the ladies. That he should act so cruelly towards me was just what I had expected. Denny and I had decided to teach him a lesson, which required us to keep our countenance in the face of such perfidy.

"Before the evening was over, Denny had made arrangements with his sister and I had told Mr Wickham that I would travel north with him. I did not say I would marry him, nor specify how far north we might go, nor even that we would travel alone, but he was happy enough to hear what he wanted in my words. We agreed to meet outside Colonel Forster's house at four of the clock, so that we could be off at first light. Imagine his surprise to find me waiting with his friend Denny and that gentleman's sister. I explained that of course I would need a travelling companion, and my dear friend Cecily Carlton had agreed to accompany us. Her brother would attend us so that Mrs Carlton had protection for her return journey. I was sure, I said, that given Wickham's violent love for me, he could have no objections to maintaining propriety for the sake of my reputation. He looked a little sour, but soon recovered his manners and agreed most charmingly to the additions to our party.

"We set off, then, to London. It was no surprise that as we approached the city, Wickham revealed a small matter of business he needed to settle before he would be free to travel further north. Why pay to take such a large party further north when he could achieve his ends as well in London as elsewhere? He suggested we take rooms in a boarding house run by a friend of his, but I insisted on coming to Gracechurch Street instead. My Aunt and Uncle were away, it was true, but I was certain they would not want us to spend money on renting rooms when there would be ample space in their house we could use without cost. The reminder of their absence was sufficient to persuade Wickham to save his blunt, and abuse their hospitality instead. I do not know what circles he usually moves in, but it beggars belief to think that loving relatives would lend their assistance to the ruination of a niece in such a way, but Lieutenant Wickham seemed to think nothing of it, and here we came.

"Before we left Brighton, I had sent an express to our father, asking him to come to London urgently, to meet me at Gracechurch Street. Unbeknownst to me, Wickham had also sent an express, purporting to be from Colonel Forster announcing our elopement. He even went so far as to include a note supposedly from me, gushing about the prospect of becoming Mrs Wickham! Our father received Wickham's missive, and rushed to London to be of whatever use he could to his daughter, before my letter even reached Longbourn. Thus, when we arrived, although the owners of the house were indeed absent, the father of the young lady in question was already in residence." Lydia giggled. "You can imagine the look on Wickham's face when he saw my father waiting for him!"

Mr Bennet chose this moment to relate his share of the story. "It was a sight to behold, I assure you. I have never seen a young man that particular shade of green before! But he is an impressive specimen: he recovered as smoothly as the best courtier. Before I knew it, he was making love to me, assuring me of his undying affection for my youngest daughter and promising that his intentions were only the most pure. He even spoke to me 'man-to-man' to express the violence of his emotions and seek my understanding for his impatience to secure Lydia's hand. I don't know what sort of fool he took me for, that I might wink at the ruination of my own daughter, but he certainly had the gall to try!"

© 2017


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's note:**

Thanks for so many enthusiastic reviews. I'm so glad people are enjoying a canny Lydia turning the tables on Wickham. To celebrate my latest novella, **A Little Encouragement** , being available on Kobo and Kindle, I decided to post the next chapter earlier than scheduled.

I hope you like it. elag

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

"Papa was ready to call him out, I am sure," interrupted Lydia, " but that would not suit our purposes at all, so I asked Papa for a private audience. I was not certain why he was so angry, given the letter I had sent him, and it was only later I learned he had not received it. He thought I had been foolish enough to really elope, and I suppose given my past behaviour, it was not so poor a misjudgement. After all, it was not until Mrs Forster took me in hand, insisting on ladylike conduct if I was to accompany her to events in Brighton, that I began to grow up. Papa, of course, had seen nothing of that, and only remembered the flighty young thing I had been in Hertfordshire, so I cannot blame him for doubting me."

"Once we were safely ensconced in my brother's study, Lydia told me her plan, and I have to say, it is an ingenious one. I am sorry to have neglected her for so long, for she is a young lady of wit and determination, and I am proud to call her my daughter." Mr Bennet's eyes were soft as he looked on his youngest daughter with admiration.

"So here we have been, for three long days, playing our parts and waiting for your return, Uncle Gardiner, for the last piece of the plan requires your help. Wickham has persisted in his delusion that we were all puppets in his play, and we have all humoured him, within reason. He still believed we were here at his behest, that sooner or later he would succeed in ruining me, and that he would then make his escape and return to his regiment with at worst the reputation of an irresistible rake, while I would drag my whole family into disgrace and Mr Darcy would be grieved to see a woman he admired besmirched in such a way, and at his hand.

"Think for just a moment how the man's mind must work, for him to be willing to hurt so many people just to make Mr Darcy sad. How distasteful!

"I have to say that his attempts at seduction became quite irritating. It is no longer amusing to have to evade his wandering hands or escape his attempts to corner me in a dark corridor for a stolen kiss. My bedroom door has regularly rattled in the middle of the night, although the lock has served its purpose. I know this because my dear Cecily, who secretly swapped rooms with me, has reported it each morning." Wickham looked up sharply at this revelation, clearly having been unaware that he had been trying to compromise the wrong woman. "And as for his hackneyed compliments, it was often difficult to maintain my composure in the face of expressions of undying devotion from a man who at Brighton had managed quite well to ignore me (until he heard I might have a connection, however tenuous, to Mr Darcy of Pemberley). If I had not been able to laugh about it with Denny and Papa, I might have slipped up and let Wickham know how far his arrows missed the mark, but I managed enough patience to leave him in ignorance. But now that you are here, we need no longer fear Lieutenant Wickham becoming wise to his mistake and trying to flee."

At this point Wickham leapt to his feet and cried out against his betrayal. "You are all mad!" he shouted. "This is a tissue of lies, invented for some devious purpose of your own. I would never dishonour a young lady so. I am shocked that you have played so faithless with my gentle affections. I will not stay with people who treat me so ill." He made to leave the room, but found himself facing a wall of angry gentlemen: Darcy, Gardiner, Bennet and Denny stood shoulder-to-shoulder to bar his exit.

"I think you should resume your seat, Lieutenant Wickham," Mr Bennet offered mildly. Wickham subsided, and slumped back into his chair. "If you think to ruin _me_ ," he muttered, "remember that I can take you all down with me."

Lydia, who seemed delighted by his discomfiture, proceeded to lay out the last details of her plan:

"I left Brighton rather suddenly, it is true. But I travelled in company with a gentleman with whom I had an understanding, for the purpose of taking him to my father so he could seek my hand in matrimony. We were accompanied by a respectable married lady, who acted as a most conscientious chaperone, and travelled with expedition directly to the safety of a family home, where my father was waiting for us. My reputation is intact, and I am delighted to say that Papa has approved Captain Denny's suit. You must congratulate us, Lizzy: we are engaged to be married!"

Elizabeth said what was proper in the circumstances, although she was still somewhat dazed by the novelty of a sensible Lydia, and was all anticipation to learn the conclusion to such an unexpected tale. "But tell us, then, what is the end of the plan, that needs Mr Gardiner's assistance?"

"That is the best part," her sister replied. "My departure from Brighton raises no question of a stain on _my_ reputation. Captain Denny obtained official leave from _his_ duties for the purpose. But _Lieutenant_ _Wickham_ acted on the spur of the moment. He heard that Lizzy was in Derbyshire and no longer hated Mr Darcy, and he immediately set out to ruin her sister's reputation. He did not take time to seek leave from his post. As a result, he has been absent without leave for a little over three days now. That counts as desertion, and if the regiment should catch up with him, he will be in serious trouble indeed. Add to that, he forged his commanding officer's hand. Captain Denny would be within his rights to take him into custody and return him to Brighton in chains. Personally, though, I think that is too kind for him. After a lashing and a period in a cell, he would be free to return to his habits of seducing innocent young ladies. So I have a different suggestion."

Wickham was by now exhibiting that very shade of green that Mr Bennet had earlier described. Perhaps he had not thought through the risk of desertion. Perhaps he had been confident he could stay ahead of any search. Perhaps he imagined that he would be forgiven his transgression as he had been forgiven so many in the past. But now he was beginning to comprehend the extent of the trouble he had gotten himself into. And that damned Lydia still had more to reveal. He cursed the day he first laid eyes on her!

"It is simple. Uncle, you own two ships, do you not? Surely one of your captains could use a fit young man for his crew? I know he has no training in whatever it is that sailors need to know, but he _is_ strong and healthy – I am sure he could be of _some_ use. Of course, he would not deserve the same wages as a trained sailor, and he should _never_ be trusted in port, but perhaps if he proved too useless, they could put him off in some foreign part?"

Mr Gardiner smiled slowly. "Captain Philpot is in port now, with The Seagull. He is bound for Zanzibar on his next journey. It is a long voyage, but promises great rewards. I am sure he could make good use of this fellow, and will not spare the whip if he causes any trouble. Philpot is a strict disciplinarian. He served under Captain Bligh before he retired from the Navy. It is an excellent thought, Lydia. I will send a note to him directly."

"That is murder!" cried Wickham. "I have never been to sea. I will not survive the shock. You are sending me to a sure death!"

"Oh, piffle," scoffed Mr Bennet . "Children of ten survive the shock every day, sir. I am sure you will manage. You _might_ have to work for your living, but that will not kill you either. You might as well save your breath to cool your porridge – you will get no sympathy from anyone here."

Wickham looked around the room: seeing the woman he had tried to ruin, her father, uncle, aunt and sister, her betrothed and his sister, another woman he had sought to seduce (and what in blazes was _Georgiana Darcy_ doing in this parlour?) and last, the implacable gaze of his old friend and old enemy, Fitzwilliam Darcy. Not one face showed a glimmer of mercy. He was well and truly trapped in a conspiracy more carefully planned than any he had ever invented.

The silence was broken by a delighted chuckle from Elizabeth Bennet. She crossed the room and pulled Lydia to her feet and into a warm embrace. "My dear sister, you are a genius! You were approached by a wolf in sheep's clothing, saw his true nature, and led him all unsuspecting into the perfect trap. I am so very proud of you!"

The two sisters were joined by Georgiana Darcy, who had overcome her shock and said, firmly, "I thank you on behalf of all young ladies, Miss Lydia. You put the rest of us to shame. It is so easy to hide away from such scoundrels, but much harder to act against them. I am glad to have such a brave sister." At this, Lydia raised one eyebrow in a manner reminiscent of her older sister, and smiled kindly at the young lady who, while a little taller than her, and probably no younger, was still child enough that she blushed in confusion as soon as she realised the import of what she had said. "That is," Georgiana continued, " I mean …" and turned helplessly to her brother.

Darcy coughed uncomfortably and addressed his (he hoped) future father-in-law. "Mr Bennet, I would appreciate a moment of your time at your earliest convenience."

Mr Bennet rolled his eyes, suggesting the conversation might wait until the present matter was resolved. Elizabeth blushed, but could not hide her smile. Mr and Mrs Gardiner exchanged and amused glance and smiled fondly on their favourite niece and the young man who had won her heart. Denny and Mrs Charlton looked on with wide-eyed interest. Lydia laughed, spun in a circle, and said, "this is a perfect end to your plans, George."

Wickham groaned aloud and held his head in his hands: in Hertfordshire, Lydia Bennet had seemed a harmless, silly young fool, flirting shamelessly with all the officers and entirely susceptible to his particular charms. He had been more interested in her second eldest sister at the time, particularly after the way he saw Darcy look at Miss Elizabeth in the street when they first met Wickham, but he had always spared a few compliments for Miss Lydia, and considered her for a roll in the hay before he left the district. On learning she was to accompany the Colonel's wife to Brighton, he decided to wait until he could sample her wares away from the protection of her family – seduction of a gentleman's daughter was always a little riskier than the lower classes, so it paid to be cautious. Once in Brighton, there had been such a supply of fresh, and mostly willing, meat for his enjoyment, that he had not spent any more effort on Lydia Bennet. He knew she could be charmed back to his hand whenever he chose to attach her, and in the meantime there was plenty to keep him amused. But when she let slip that her sister – the delectable Miss Elizabeth – had resumed her acquaintance with Mr Darcy, and on more friendly terms than before, he saw his opportunity to achieve three objectives at once: he could escape his mounting debts in Brighton by leaving suddenly and secretly; he could taste of Miss Lydia's wares (after all, he hated to leave his seductions unconsummated); and he could poke Fitzwilliam Darcy in the eye (or perhaps kick him in the groin was a better metaphor in the circumstances) by ensuring Miss Elizabeth Bennet was so thoroughly ruined that Darcy could never offer for her.

Yet somehow, every part of his plan had come undone: He was trapped in a house full of his enemies, about to be shanghaied onto a merchantman bound for the other side of the world; he had never even managed a grope with Lydia Bennet, let alone got her in the sack; and Darcy was sitting opposite him making eyes at Miss Elizabeth and asking her father for an audience. He had never underestimated a woman as badly as he had the youngest Bennet sister.

But there was one thing Lydia Bennet did not know. Desperate for some means of escape, Wickham drew his head up, looked disdainfully at Georgiana Darcy, and spoke to her brother: "Miss Lydia may have covered her tracks sufficiently to avoid scandal, but there is another young lady's reputation in question, is there not? Allow them to do this to me, Darcy, and I will have no reason to hide the truth about your precious sister. Once I tell people how eager she was to elope with me, her name will be dragged through the mud. As will yours. Let me walk free, Darcy, or you will regret it."

To his surprise, it was Georgiana and not Fitzwilliam Darcy who answered him.

"Don't be ridiculous, George," she said, her voice infused with amusement, "Who on earth would believe the word of a sailor about such a thing? Who on earth do you think you will be able to talk to? Your fellow mariners? The traders of Zanzibar? Perhaps the ship's captain will enjoy your whining and slander? And if by some quirk of fate, your ramblings did make their way back to the _ton_ , I would survive. I was a child and was saved before anything actually happened. _You_ were a man of 26 who set out to seduce a child and steal her dowry, all the while maintaining an illicit relationship with her paid companion. I was foolish. You were corrupt. I was naïve. You were manipulative and deceitful. By all means, tell the world. No one will believe you, though frankly, I no longer care if they do or not. I will live my life without reference to you or to anyone nasty enough to judge me for _your_ misdeeds. So goodbye, George. I doubt I will ever see you again. I will live my life happily in the knowledge that you cannot hurt my brother again."

With that, Georgiana rose, curtseyed to the room, and took her leave. She convinced her brother to let her travel on to Darcy House alone (but for the bevy of footmen and servants who would accompany her) where he could rejoin her once his business at Gracechurch Street was concluded. Elizabeth walked with her to the front door, expressing her admiration for the set-down she had just delivered to George Wickham and her joy that soon they would be able to claim each other as sisters in truth.

In the parlour, Lydia turned to Captain Denny. With a shy smile, surprising on the face of the woman who had so recently held the whole room in the grip of her confident narrative, she suggested her betrothed might secure Lieutenant Wickham to his seat until such time as they had heard from Captain Philpot. While Denny was willing, he soon found himself eagerly assisted by Mr Bennet, Mr Gardiner and Mr Darcy, each of whom wanted a share in the retribution against the man who had threatened those dear to them. As a result, George Wickham found himself most securely bound before tea was served and the others enjoyed refreshments as though he were not even in the room.

When the tea set was cleared away, Mr Bennet and Mr Darcy retired to Mr Gardiner's study for a private conversation.

© 2017


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's note:** Apologies for the long delay since the last chapter. I finally have my laptop back from the repair shop, and hopefully will be able to resume posting a chapter a week. elag

* * *

 **Chapter 11**

Mr Gardiner's study was a utilitarian room, lined with shelves containing ledgers, registers and sample books. His desk was a perfect example of organised chaos - doubtless Mr Gardiner would be able to lay his hand on any particular document with precision, but to an observer it appeared an entirely random collection of papers. Luckily for present purposes, there was a pair of comfortable chairs arrayed before the fireplace which were unencumbered by the busy clutter that characterised the rest of the room. Mr Bennet waved Darcy into one of them, then poured two glasses of brandy before taking the second himself. Giving Darcy his glass, he raised a toast "to my remarkable daughters", which Darcy was only too happy to drink to.

"Thank you for agreeing to this meeting, sir," began Darcy, a little nervously, but he was cut short before he could make his request.

"Think nothing of it, Mr Darcy," replied his interlocutor dismissively. "I was eager for an opportunity to speak with you privately. Tell me, young man, how is it that my daughter Elizabeth, who last time we spoke had nothing good to say about you, brought you and your sister to this house at such a time? I understand from what your sister had to say that you have some history with that Wickham scoundrel, but I am astounded to think you have shared such matters with my daughter, or that she decided you should be privy to the near ruin of her own family. I did not make an issue of it in the other room, (particularly as it was clear your presence disconcerted Mr Wickham, and that was a satisfaction in itself after the last few days of enduring his company). I trust Elizabeth to have some good reason for sharing Lydia's circumstances with you and your sister. She is a sensible child, and would not put our family's reputation at risk. So I trusted you, and _will_ trust you, to keep our confidence. But I am still perplexed. _Why_ are you here, sir?"

Darcy thought carefully before answering. He swirled the liquor in his glass, watching the light of the fire reflected through the amber liquid, before raising his eyes to examine Mr Bennet directly. The older man was not someone Darcy had come to respect: he had stood by on several occasions when his daughters or his wife had made themselves ridiculous; he had allowed Mr Collins to importune and even propose to his favourite daughter before he bothered to put his foot down and discourage the man's attentions; his estate was adequately run, but in an old-fashioned way, with no attention to modern developments in farming and land management. No, Darcy had not had reason to think well of Mr Bennet in the past. But now he needed that man's approval for the most important thing in his life: he could not risk alienating Elizabeth's father. Taking a deep breath, he decided to start at the beginning.

"Mr Bennet, I am aware that I did not make a good impression when I came into Hertfordshire. I was fresh from the events involving my sister and Wickham, so was in a foul mood, but that is no excuse for the arrogance with which I treated the neighbourhood. I deeply regret the offence I caused, and quite understand why many would view me poorly. It may please you to know that I well and truly came a cropper as a result of that overweening pride. I was brought low when I learned in the plainest possible way that all my wealth and connections did not make me a prize - that a woman worthy of being pleased required different accomplishments in a gentleman. I took that lesson to heart, and have tried to become a better man."

Mr Bennet was all astonishment at this opening. He had expected condescension and disdain from one such as Darcy. Everything he had seen of the man in their prior acquaintance reinforced his initial impression that Darcy thought himself above his company and had looked on the Bennet family only to find fault. Yet here he was, admitting his error and claiming to be a reformed man. Mr Bennet had an inkling as to the source of the proud Mr Darcy's comeuppance, but thought he would have a little fun at the man's expense before allowing him to come to the point.

"Well, you have my sympathy, sir. It is never pleasant to have one's short-comings pointed out, particularly by a member of the gentle sex. Having observed her strength and outspokenness, I can only presume that it way Miss Darcy who took you to task over your behaviour. I must compliment her on her discernment, for you were indeed insufferably rude when we first knew you."

Darcy's eyes goggled a little at such bluntness, but then he reminded himself where Elizabeth had learned her frankness from. To Mr Bennet's surprise, a small smile graced his lips as he answered, "No, indeed. My sister is an admirable young lady, and has lately grown in confidence, it is true, but she has only ever seen the best in me. No, it was another young lady altogether who so thoroughly chastised me. Mr Bennet, I speak of your daughter, Miss Elizabeth. It is Miss Elizabeth Bennet who did me the great favour of listing my faults."

"A great favour, you call it! I dare say you are an unusual man to think so. Not many would relish such an event. But you astound me, Mr Darcy. You say it was my Lizzy who told you off. Well, I cannot imagine the circumstances in which that conversation might have occurred! Lizzy is a young woman of decided opinions, but I hope she has good enough manners to refrain from speaking so harshly to slight acquaintances. After all, she endured near a full week in the same house with you and those appalling Bingley sisters without being provoked to such language. What on earth did you do to inspire my Lizzy to attack you so?"

Darcy rolled his eyes, realising he would not escape this interview without completely humiliating himself, and said, "Three things, really. First, I hid my admiration for your daughter, leaving her with the impression that I meant that absurd insult that I uttered at the Meryton assembly - I am sure she has mentioned it to you?" At the older gentleman's nod, he continued, "Second, I was arrogant enough to think I could ascertain the true feelings of a lady I had barely spoken to: I advised my friend Bingley that I thought Miss Bennet to be indifferent to him. I have since become aware of how wrong I was, but at the time I thought I was saving a friend from a marriage of unequal affections. In doing so, I caused grief to Bingley, whose affections were most definitely engaged, and, as Miss Elizabeth told me, to Miss Bennet. I have since apologised for such officious interference in the affairs of others, but at the time, I not only rejoiced in my success, but I went so far as to boast of it to my cousin, who innocently told the tale to Miss Elizabeth, not realising that the lady in question was her sister."

"I can imagine Lizzy would not take such news kindly," said a thoughtful Mr Bennet, "but at least it seems your motives were good, even if your information was not. My eldest still suffers from your interference, sir."

At this Darcy blanched. "I have written to Bingley and asked him to reopen Netherfield. I intend to tell him of my mistake and beg his forgiveness, but want to do so in person, and not by letter. I will do so while we are in town. What might come of it, I cannot say. It may be that too much time has passed. But if he and Miss Bennet still feel as they did last winter, then perhaps this will give them an opportunity to overcome the impediments placed in their path by others. I apologise unreservedly to you, sir, as I have done to Miss Elizabeth, for my mistaken pride in thinking it was my place to be the judge of Miss Bennet's affections."

"Come, now," chided Mr Bennet, "do not be too hard on yourself. You acted in the service of a friend, after all. But you said _three_ things?"

"Ah, yes … well …" Darcy took a swig of the brandy for courage and plowed on: "My third offence was the most spectacular. I proposed marriage to your daughter in the most insulting and condescending terms possible."

Mr Bennet was delighted to see that the proud Mr Darcy was blushing like a schoolboy at this admission. He took a long sip of his drink while he contemplated the astounding idea that his Elizabeth had won the heart of a man he had hitherto believed impervious to such an emotion. But then the import of what Darcy had said really sank in. With a start, Mr Bennet sat up straight in his chair and demanded, "Are you telling me you have entered into a secret engagement with my daughter, sir?"

Darcy laughed quietly, saying, "I have not, sir. Miss Elizabeth rejected my suit most vehemently. She did not spare me the full force of her scorn in explaining why I was not the sort of man she would consider as the companion of her future life. And while it stung at the time, on reflection I realised she was right to do so. I had not behaved as a gentleman ought. I had been vain and selfish. Indeed, can you imagine the extent of my folly: I had expected Miss Elizabeth to accept my suit for my wealth and position, without stopping to wonder whether she even liked me!"

Mr Bennet coughed before responding. He did not know whether to admit that he would have expected likewise (since his second daughter could not expect to ever receive a more prudentially favourable offer), to laugh at the image of Elizabeth's anger unleashed on the hapless suitor, or to worry at where this most unexpected conversation was leading. Why was Mr Darcy telling him all this? Eventually he mastered his voice and settled on teasing - his usual standby in times of uncertainty. "What shall it profit a man, if he gain the whole world, and suffer the loss of his heart?" he paraphrased, raising an eyebrow at Darcy in challenge.

To his surprise, Darcy was neither angry nor embarrassed to be so mocked. True, the tall gentleman did flinch slightly at the memory of how it felt to have lost both his heart and his hope of being reunited with it. Nevertheless, he looked steadily at Mr Bennet, smiled slightly, and explained the current state of matters between himself and Miss Elizabeth.

"Luckily for me, I face neither prospect, Mr Bennet. I am rich, but hardly so rich as to be in danger of gaining the whole world. I have a solid income derived from property and investments, a well-established family home and estate, a position of respect in my community and close family connections with nobility. However, I am at heart a gentleman farmer like yourself. As for my heart, I did indeed lose it, and thereby learnt some harsh but necessary lessons about myself.

"But then, against all hope and expectation, I was blessed by the opportunity to renew my acquaintance with Miss Elizabeth when she toured Derbyshire. She and I have spoken of our past differences. I have tried to show her how I have endeavoured to become a better man. And I have been honoured by her agreement to enter into a courtship, subject, of course, to your consent, sir."

At last, now that the moment called for him to speak, Mr Bennet found himself with nothing to say. The stress of the past few days of cajoling Wickham into waiting for the Gardiners' return, followed by the shock of Mr Darcy's revelations, was overwhelming. To play for time, he pressed Mr Darcy on the fact that he was seeking consent for a courtship rather than an engagement. "Am I to understand that you have proposed to my daughter, been roundly rejected, suffered all the pangs of heartache, only to be reunited with her, whereupon you found her more favourably inclined towards you, and now you seek a _courtship_? Are you no longer certain of your intentions, Mr Darcy? Do you perhaps plan to exact your revenge by working to engage her affections and then disappointing her hopes? Why, sir, are you not asking my permission to propose?"

This was one insult too many for Darcy. He had to rein in his temper, which flared at the suggestion that he might be playing with Elizabeth's affections. Not only did it question the deep affection he held for this man's daughter, but it challenged his honour as a gentleman. With icy calm, he placed his glass on the side table, and rose to his feet. He could no longer endure sitting before the fire as though they were two gentlemen at their club discussing the cricket. This was his Elizabeth's heart they were talking about!

"Mr Bennet," he said sharply, "I hope that was an attempt at humour, for if you seriously think I would treat any young lady in such a manner, you are quite mistaken, and if I thought you were in earnest, I would take the greatest offence."

Mr Bennet blanched a little, as he realised that he had pushed the great man too far. His courage rallied, however, and he answered with commendable sternness, "I hold _my daughter's_ happiness very dear, Mr Darcy. I will not sit idly by and see her heart played with. I am glad to receive your assurances that your intentions are honourable, but you are still to explain why, having once proposed, you are now only seeking a courtship. Your sister certainly implied something more. How do you account for it, sir?"

"I would propose immediately, if I thought Miss Elizabeth would accept me," Darcy muttered, a little resentfully, then, speaking more clearly, elucidated: "It is for her sake that I have asked for a courtship. If, after coming to know me better, she still does not wish to share her life with me, then I do not want any stain on her reputation arising from a broken engagement. I have absolutely no doubts about my own intentions. If she will have me, I am hers. If she will not have me, she will still hold my heart - I am afraid that is irrevocably hers - but I will honour her decision and will not importune her further. Georgiana spoke without thinking - she sees no obstacles and would have us already married if she could, but as yet I have asked for nothing more than a courtship."

"And you say my Lizzy has _agreed_ to this?"

"Yes, sir. She has done me that honour." Darcy could not help the slight curve of his lips as he remembered the event. "Do we have your consent for a courtship, then?"

"You must understand, Mr Darcy, that this comes as a great shock, and on top of a very difficult week. I will need to speak to Elizabeth before making my decision." He raised a hand to quell the immediate response he saw Darcy preparing to make. "I do not doubt your wealth or standing, sir, nor that you are an honourable gentleman, if a bit haughty. I merely wish to assure myself that Elizabeth has had a genuine change of sentiment about you. I could not rest easy if she had consented to a courtship out of some sense of guilt for having previously been so rude to you, or out of gratitude for your offer to assist with recovering Lydia (although as it turns out, Lydia was the captor, not the captive, in that particular adventure. No, sir, you must grant me this. I will speak to Elizabeth, then give you your answer."

Darcy bowed his head in acknowledgement of older gentleman's ultimatum. He could hardly censure him for placing Elizabeth's happiness first. "Very well. I understand your caution. I would do no less should some man seek permission to court my sister. But I beg you, sir, not to keep me waiting too long."

"You shall have my answer on the morrow, young man." Mr Bennet threw back the last of his brandy and rose to his feet. "Now, shall we see what mischief those girls of mine have been up to?"

© 2018


	12. Chapter 12

Elizabeth was waiting with a broad smile on their return to the parlour, clearly expecting good news. Her father entered the room first, looking disgruntled. Mr Darcy stood behind him looking his usual solemn self, only raising one eyebrow to Elizabeth, from which she understood that the interview had not gone quite as he had hoped, but had not been a complete catastrophe. She looked meaningfully at the place beside her on the sofa, but before Darcy could cross the room to her side, Mr Bennet said loudly, "I suppose it is time for you to return to your house to see to your sister's comfort, Mr Darcy. I thank you for your visit." Then, noticing the dismay on Darcy's face, he gestured towards Wickham and added, "You are most welcome to call tomorrow to learn the fate of this reprobate." In the face of such a public dismissal, Darcy was left with no option but to bow politely to his hosts and all the others still assembled in the room, and to take his leave.

Elizabeth hurried to show him out, but the short hallway offered no chance for privacy, and in response to her anxious look, all Darcy could manage was to assure her he would return on the morrow, and to whisper that her father wished to speak to her before granting his consent. Within moments, he found himself standing on a street corner in Cheapside, attempting to hail a hackney cab, since Georgiana had absconded with his own carriage.

It took nearly half an hour for the cab to wend its way across town to his establishment in Mayfair. It was not long enough for him to determine how he felt about all the shocks of the past few hours. He had arrived in London warmly confident about his future with Elizabeth, and full of worries about the matter of Wickham and Miss Lydia. He had planned for all the unpleasantness of hunting his old foe down, finding some way to patch up the reputation of Elizabeth's sister, and if necessary, even reconciled to accepting George Wickham as a brother-in-law. On the other hand, he had hoped to be welcomed by Elizabeth's father as a worthy suitor for his favourite daughter, and to be able to publicly declare their courtship before the day was over.

Somehow, the world was working in reverse. Miss Lydia had managed George Wickham admirably. She had outsmarted him at his own game and neatly entrapped him into exile, at the same time securing her own reputation and, it would seem, the heart of a worthy man in Captain Denny. There was nothing for Darcy to do but watch as the Bennets and Gardiners, Dennys and, apparently, one Captain Philpot, delivered a most fitting justice. He was not used to feeling superfluous, and at the same time as admiring Miss Lydia's pluck and cunning, he could not help feeling slightly miffed that he had raced across the country to prove of no help at all.

As for securing Mr Bennet's approval for his courtship with Elizabeth, that had certainly confounded his expectations. He was not quite sure how he had earned that gentleman's distrust, but he seemed to resent the fact that Darcy had requested a courtship instead of jumping directly to engagement. Was not the proper way of things? Ought not a father prefer his daughters to be respectfully wooed before being pressed to answer a proposal? Mr Bennet should have been pleased at the idea of Elizabeth having a chance to know her suitor and to understand her own feelings in the matter before being irrevocably tied to him. Yet he seemed more angry than anything else. He seemed to have construed it as an insult that Darcy was offering anything short of marriage!

Yet that did not feel like the whole story. Darcy had gained the distinct impression that Mr Bennet was reluctant to consider parting with his daughter on any terms. Was this a reaction to so nearly losing Miss Lydia? Was his own dislike for Darcy so strong as to disdain him as a son-in-law? Darcy, himself a man of decision and action, could not understand what purpose a night of delay could serve: if Mr Bennet intended to consent, surely he would have done so immediately.

By the time the cab pulled to a halt outside Darcy House, its occupant was fretting nervously. By the time he had paid off the driver, entered the house and divested himself of his outer garments, he was dourly grim. By the time he had bid a terse hello to his housekeeper and his sister, and retreated to his study to mull over his conversation with Mr Bennet, Darcy was in a lather of anxiety.

Would Mr Bennet's reluctance to support the match discourage Elizabeth? Their newfound amity was so recent and fragile a thing - if her beloved father reminded her of all the reasons she had first refused him, would she reconsider the merits of his suit, and refuse him again? Oh, he was sure she would do it more kindly this time, but it would destroy him nevertheless. And there was nothing he could do but wait and hope. He had plenty of experience with the first, but precious little with the second. It would be a very long night indeed, but he would present himself at the Gardiners' house at the earliest possible hour tomorrow to discover his fate.

Elizabeth had thought that the difficulties in her relationship with Mr Darcy were behind her. They had been able to overcome all their misunderstandings and misapprehensions, and despite the reason for their hurried journey south, and all the attendant anxieties, they had steadily grown in understanding and affection since their unexpected reunion at Pemberley. _His_ affections had proved steadfast, surviving not only her harsh dismissal of his first proposal, but the potential scandal of Lydia's unexplained departure from Brighton, and even the risk of being more closely connected to George Wickham than he could ever have wished for. Fitzwilliam Darcy had proved both honourable and steadfast in his affections for her, and her own feelings for him had become more certain: he was exactly the man who, in disposition and talents, would most suit her. His understanding and temper, though unlike her own, would answer all her wishes. She was quite ready to accept him should he offer, and had nursed a small hope that when he went to speak to her father he would have sought permission to propose, and not just approval for their courtship.

Yet when he emerged from that interview, he was clearly agitated and unhappy. He had smiled for the company when taking his leave, but it was a poor imitation of a true expression of pleasure, and failed to convince. The way in which Mr Bennet had hurried him from the house did not speak of a friendly understanding between the two men, and when Elizabeth had snatched a few moments with Darcy as she saw him to the door, he had whispered that her father had not yet granted his consent. At least Darcy had promised to return on the morrow, so he clearly had not given up his pursuit, but what on earth was her father thinking, to make them both wait for an answer? After such a long and difficult path to felicity, what obstacles would Mr Bennet now place in their path?

Before she had a chance to demand a private audience with her father, Captain Philpot arrived, accompanied by three of his crew, who were shown below stairs to eat with the servants while their Captain dined with the family. Mr Gardiner did his best to maintain a polite conversation about inconsequential matters, and Captain Philpot was kind enough to entertain the table with a few anecdotes of his travels, but what might otherwise have been an enjoyable meal was marred by the presence in one corner of the room of a man bound to a chair, who occasionally proclaimed that he was very hard done by indeed. Wickham was hardly good company in the circumstances, but no-one was inclined to consign his custody to the servants when they were so close to finally disposing of him to the good Captain's supervision.

Elizabeth, usually a reliable contributor to dinner-table conversation, was preoccupied with musing on her father's attitude to her courtship with Darcy, and as a result entirely missed several questions which were directed to her. Eventually, Lydia, who was seated to her left, gave her a shove with her elbow and cried, "Whatever is the matter, Lizzy? It is not like you to be so very stupid. I hope you are not feeling sorry for Mr Wickham?"

This was enough to startle Elizabeth to attention: she would not for the world leave either George Wickham or her father with the impression that she harboured any lingering affection for that man! She saw that Wickham had looked up with a flicker of hope at Lydia's words. Her father had merely raised one eyebrow and was watching her curiously.

"Indeed not!" she replied with perhaps more force than was polite. "Mr Wickham has more than earned his present situation, and is perhaps better served by the future you have devised for him than he would be by being returned to his regiment in disgrace as a deserter and attempted kidnapper. I am perfectly content never to see his face again, and only wish that he had met his comeuppance before he could wreak as much damage as he has already achieved in his life. I must say, Lydia, that I am exceptionally proud to have such a sister!"

This successfully turned the conversation to another round of congratulations for Lydia and Mr Denny and their cunning in bringing the villain to brook. Mr Bennet was pleased to see that, at least in relation to _this_ young man, his second daughter retained her capacity to see him for what he truly was. Elizabeth noted both her father's satisfied nod and Wickham's dejected slump back into his chair.

Captain Philpot declared himself a busy man who must return to his vessel rather than remain for an evening of entertainment, however pleasant the company: once the meal was cleared away, he summoned his men and supervised the removal of his new crew member, following them into the night after taking an affectionate leave of Mr and Mrs Gardiner. Thus, with very little fuss, George Wickham was gone from their lives. Shortly thereafter, Lydia, Captain Denny and Mrs Charlton all retired to their respective guest rooms, claiming the need for a good night's sleep after so many days fending off George Wickham's overtures. The Gardiners begged off company in order to spend some time with their children before retiring themselves, and soon Elizabeth found herself alone in the parlour with her father.

It was with a mixture of worry and impatience that Elizabeth distractedly bid the others good evening. She did not know what objections her father might have to her match with Darcy, but clearly he had some reservations or he would have consented immediately. It took no great knowledge of her father's character to guess that he would rather avoid, or at least defer, any difficult conversation, so it was small surprise when he excused himself to Mr Gardiner's study without so much as a mention of Darcy's suit.

Elizabeth sighed in exasperation. Why were men such difficult creatures? Giving him no more than a few minutes to gather his thoughts, she determinedly followed him to the study. She _would_ bring him to the point, and she _would_ secure his consent to either a courtship or an engagement before Darcy returned for his promised visit on the morrow.

Mr Thomas Bennet sat brooding in his brother-in-law's study. He had hoped at first that his daughter had insisted on a courtship to play for time, or that she was simply toying with her gentleman admirer, but Darcy's quiet confidence in her improved opinion, together with his own reflections on the little interactions he had observed earlier in the evening, left him with the sinking feeling that Elizabeth was seriously considering marriage to the man.

He had not felt such a sense of betrayal since the second year of his own marriage, when his lady wife had happily informed him of her hopes for the future. She had, it emerged, not married him for love. Not even for affection. To her, he had been an opportunity - a way to secure a better life for herself, and social standing for her children. To marry a gentleman, she explained gleefully, had been her life's ambition, and when he had haplessly, calf-like, fallen for her abundant charms, she had seized upon his proposal as the best she was ever likely to receive. "Now," she had said, proudly holding their first-born up for his inspection, "my daughter will be raised gentle, and will have the chance to marry into true wealth. Oh, I am very pleased, Mr Bennet." Unaware that she had just broken his heart, she had turned her happy gaze back to baby Jane, the first of a brood of girls each of whom could secure their mother's future by marrying well, but none of whom could secure the future of his entailed estate.

What a fool he had been, gulled by a comely face and pretty manners into believing himself in love. He had thought himself so magnanimous, marrying a woman so far beneath him, but had felt certain their mutual affection would overcome any disparities in station, education or understanding. Of these, the only one he had achieved was to raise Fanny Gardiner's station in life, for by marrying him she immediately became a gentlewoman. Unfortunately for Thomas Bennet, that change did not work any magic on the lady's mind, and she remained a grasping, manipulative, ignorant woman, prone to histrionics and sulking, more like to embarrass him in public by opening her mouth than to grace his arm as the beautiful, demure wife he had hoped for.

No, Thomas Bennet had been well and truly burned. But he had learned from his mistake. He had exacted his rights on a regular basis (it seemed to be the only part of the wedding contract he was to benefit from), let Fanny raise the resulting brood of wedding-fodder, had not quibbled when she brought them all out far too early in order to throw them on the marriage mart, did not try to check her blatant scheming and open discussion of her ambitions for her daughters, and retreated to his book room to avoid being in her company so far as humanly possible.

But he had exacted his revenge. The first-born, Jane, was too sweet and tractable for his purposes, but when he saw his second daughter stamp her three-year-old foot and refuse to wear a frilly dress that would curtail her ability to play out of doors, he chose his tool. Over the following years, he had shaped that girl to be his ally in the family - had educated her, taught her everything she might need to know to help him run the estate, much as a son would have been educated - but more than that, he had taught her to see the folly and inconsistencies in the people around them. He had, he thought, proofed her against repeating his own mistake. She would _never_ marry, because she would see the absurdities in any young man who sought her favour, and would wield her razor-sharp wit against the unsuspecting young bucks.

Thomas Bennet had congratulated himself on the success of his scheme when Elizabeth had so roundly refused her cousin's offer of marriage. That buffoon was too stupid to realise he had been the butt of Lizzy's sarcastic ire for weeks, and had proposed with every expectation of success - after all, seen in a prudential light, it was a sensible match, and would have kept Bennet blood at Longbourn for generations to come. But Lizzy had seen the fool for what he was, and even the prize of being the future mistress of her family estate was not enough to overcome her native disgust for the prospect of marriage to such a one. (Bennet had rolled his eyes at the irony when the very woman who had used him so ill had asked him to force Elizabeth's hand in order to secure her _own_ future! As if he would send his one ally in the family away to Kent, only to return after his own death, in order to save _Fanny_ from the hedgerows. Ha!)

His plan was simple. He had raised a child too clever to ever marry, competent to run the estate, able to match wits with him and provide him with a good challenge at chess, and as soon as his dear wife had managed to secure husbands for the rest of her brood, he would pack Mrs Bennet off to live with her one or another of her married daughters while Elizabeth kept him company at Longbourn for the remainder of his days.

But now, here was a young man who had somehow got past all Elizabeth's natural defences, and claimed to have won her heart. He knew for a fact that she had seen through Darcy's pretensions when they first met. She had scorned the haughty gentleman and laughed at him most heartily. She had called him proud, arrogant, disdainful. She had rolled her eyes behind his back and exchanged speaking glances with her father that had left them both on the verge of indelicate bursts of laughter. What could have happened to so confuse her? How could she have betrayed him for such a man?

Well, whatever temporary lapse in judgement had led his daughter so far from the proper path, he would put a stop to it. But he needed to be sly. He could not refuse Darcy outright - indeed, the rich, influential and domineering Mr Darcy was the kind of man to whom Bennet should never dare refuse anything which he condescended to ask. He would not risk his own future by earning the enmity of such a powerful man. But Elizabeth was not of age for eight months yet, and was not in a position to defy her father's commands, no matter how she had let her feelings run away with her. After Lydia's adventure, she would see the importance of avoiding bringing scandal down on her sisters, so there was no risk of an elopement. No, he had time in which to work, and a deep understanding of his daughter's character which he could bring to bear on the problem. All he needed to do in the short term was to delay any formal understanding, be it engagement or courtship.

Satisfied with his decision to defer any real action to another day, he leaned back in Mr Gardiner's comfortable chair and was musing quietly about how to convince Lizzy to withdraw her consent to this ill-considered courtship, when the daughter in question knocked on the door and entered without waiting for his call. Her obvious impatience was not a good sign, and her father sighed heavily before sitting up straight to give his full attention to what was certain to be a difficult conversation.

© 2018


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note:** Wow! People really don't like this version of Mr Bennet. For the record, Jane Austen's Mr Bennet is one of my favourite characters in P&P. I know I have strayed far from canon in this portrayal, but that is the enjoyable thing about fan fiction - it is a realm in which we can experiment with all those what-ifs, and in this case, what if Mr Bennet was supremely selfish, as well as indolent? So here we go! Elizabeth finally gets to talk to her father.

 **Chapter 13**

After what felt like an age of social niceties, when all she wanted to do was to talk to her father and find out what the problem was, Elizabeth was out of patience. She did not wait for her father to speak. She did not take a seat. She stood before her uncle's desk with her hands on her hips and demanded, "Papa, _why_ have you not given Mr Darcy an answer?"

Although provoked by his daughter's obvious ire, Mr Bennet replied with every appearance of calm, "Because I did not wish to _refuse_ him without hearing you first, my dear."

That was enough to take the wind out of Elizabeth's sails. She sank into the waiting chair, eyes fixed on her father's face. " _Refuse_ him? Why ever would you refuse him?"

"Because we all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of man. He _claims_ that you have consented to a courtship, Lizzy, but I know it must be a falsehood. I could not have pitched on any man within the circle of our acquaintance whose name would have given the lie more effectively to such a proposition! Mr Darcy, who never looks at any woman but to see a blemish, and who probably never looked at _you_ in his life, until he was forced into a carriage with you for days on end, I suppose! Have you so quickly forgotten his opinion of your appearance at the assembly? He finds you barely tolerable, which just goes to show what a fool he is. And I well know your pointed dislike of the man: how you have sharpened your wit at his expense! And he told me how vehemently you rejected him at first. Of all people to come seeking my consent for a courtship, Mr Darcy! I am sure he has requested it for some mischievous purpose of his own, but he will not find me easily gulled. The whole thing is wonderfully absurd. But Lizzy, you look as if you do not enjoy the joke. You are not going to be _missish_ , I hope, and pretend to be affronted by such a comedy? For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbours, and to laugh at them in turn?"

"Papa, this is not a fit matter for sport. I have long repented my early dislike of Mr Darcy. I am surprised he told you of his earlier proposal, and while I rejected him at the time, I now deeply regret my harsh words, for he had not merited my disdain. I have since come to know him better, and find him to be an excellent gentleman. Indeed, I admire him greatly. I _did_ consent to a courtship, Papa, and the request was made before any thought of us returning to London together. It certainly does not proceed from us travelling south together. I like him very much indeed. I _welcome_ his suit, and beg you to grant your consent." Elizabeth looked most earnestly at the father she had loved and admired her whole life, and was dismayed to see a grimace of distaste cross his face before he resumed his more usual visage - that of the genial country squire.

Mr Bennet was disappointed at the turn the conversation had taken. He had hoped Elizabeth would be ready to join in his joking dismissal of Darcy's proposal. Instead, it seemed his daughter's sentiments were firmly engaged, but he was far from dissuaded from his path. He knew his Elizabeth better than any person on Earth, and was confident he could bring her to his way of thinking. The child was smart enough to understand the disadvantages of being tied to Darcy for the rest of her life!

"Let me advise you to think better of it." He spoke gently, bringing to bear all his powers of persuasion. "I know your disposition, Lizzy. I know that you could be neither happy nor respectable, unless you truly esteemed your husband; unless you looked up to him as a superior. Your lively talents would place you in the greatest danger in an unequal marriage. You could scarcely escape discredit and misery. My child," and this was said with a most affectionate look, "let me not have the grief of seeing _you_ unable to respect your partner in life. You know not what you are about."

Elizabeth could not help but be affected by her father's words. She had lived her entire childhood and youth with the ever-present lesson of her parents' marriage. She knew her mother to be a silly, flighty sort of woman, with more ambition than sense, and had often been embarrassed by her in public. The lack of affection between Mrs Bennet and her husband was an open secret. All their children had watched their father regularly make fun of their mother, and not only in the privacy of their own home. Elizabeth knew very well the sort of marriage she did _not_ want.

But the Bennet household was not her only example of marriage: she had been in and out of Lucas Lodge since she was old enough to visit, and knew that one did not need to be witty or wise to be genuinely affectionate. Sir William and Lady Lucas were kind to each other and were often found remarking with fondness on something the other had done or said. And then there was the example of Mr and Mrs Gardiner, who clearly loved and respected each other in a manner Elizabeth would be proud to emulate. She understood her father's regrets (although, he would be disappointed to know, she did not hold him to be the only injured party), but she saw no parallel between his circumstance and her own. Fitzwilliam Darcy was a man she could both love and respect, and she was confident that he both loved and respected her in turn. Marriage to Mr Darcy promised a level of felicity she knew her father could only imagine.

Earnestly and solemnly, she explained at length the gradual change which her estimation of Mr Darcy had undergone, relating her absolute certainty that his affection was not the work of a day, but had stood the test of many months' suspense, and enumerating with energy all his good qualities. He really was, she explained, the object of her rational, considered choice. She methodically refuted her father's arguments: that Darcy was a domineering man who would want to control every aspect of her life; that on entering the first circles, she would no longer have the freedom she currently enjoyed to ramble through the countryside or to speak impertinently; that Darcy was humourless and dry, and would suck the cheer out of her life; even that Derbyshire was too far from Longbourn and she would be estranged from her family and friends. "Oh, Papa," she laughed, attempting to lighten the mood, "what is fifty miles of good road where there is sufficient fortune to make the expenses of travelling unimportant?"

"In other words, you are determined to have him. He is rich, to be sure, and you may have more fine clothes and fine carriages than your sisters, but will they make you happy? You may have felt inclined to accept his hand after seeing his fine house and all the liveried servants who no doubt people his properties, but l know you, Lizzy. A few luxuries will not be enough to ease the pain of being tied to such a man. He will think to own you: you will be just another bauble he has purchased for his own convenience, and when the first flush of infatuation is past, he will set you aside and look for something - or someone - else to amuse himself with. What comfort will your pin money be then?"

Despite his insulting her honour, suggesting she was swayed by Mr Darcy's wealth, Elizabeth gave her father's concerns due consideration. "You know I care nothing for wealth and station, Papa. Let him only be rich enough to provide me with a comfortable situation and I ask for nothing more. It is not for his money or his fine carriages that I admire Mr Darcy. It is for the man himself, who I know to be too honourable a gentleman to behave in the way you have described. But he is not rushing into anything on the basis of infatuation: he has admired me for many months, in the face of long separations and my own intemperate rejection of his first proposal. If he were going to tire of me, he might well have done so already, but he has not. Nor is he seeking a hurried engagement, though he _has_ waited so long. He has respected my suggestion that a courtship would be preferable, to provide us both with an opportunity to know each other better. But I can tell you now, Papa, that if he were to press his suit immediately, I am more than ready to accept him."

Mr Bennet grew increasingly more sullen as he saw his persuasion was not going to work. The child was both too clever and too stupid: too clever to be easily defeated by debating points, and too stupid to see past her own infatuation! Well, there was no point in discussing the matter further tonight. "Enough, Lizzy. You are too young and inexperienced to know what is best. It is my place as your father to look out for your interests, and in time you will see that I am right. Mr Darcy is not for you. You would do better to die an old maid than to tie yourself to such a man."

Elizabeth looked at her father in shock. For all his shortcomings as a husband and father, she had believed him to respect her intelligence and understanding. After all, had he not said she had something more of quickness than her sisters? Had he not distinguished her from his general disdain for the silliness of his wife and daughters? Yet now he was dismissing her reasoning as though she was a foolish child asking for a treat that would only serve to make her ill. Why would he not credit that she knew Mr Darcy better than he did, and that her opinions of the gentleman were founded in a dispassionate estimation of this worth? She loved Darcy, it was true. But she was not so foolish as to be swept up in her emotions without consideration of the practicalities of marriage. With her parents' example daily before her, how could she do otherwise than to think the matter through most carefully? She had taken all her father's arguments into consideration, but it seemed he was not willing to return the favour.

"Would you really rather have me die an old maid, Papa?" she asked, a touch of wonderment in her voice. She had often joked about the matter herself - had assured Jane that she would happily live as the maiden aunt who spoiled Jane's children - but in truth it was not a future she relished, and not one she was happy to hear her father propose.

Mr Bennet wisely chose not to answer directly. He did not think this a propitious moment to explain his own hopes for Elizabeth's future. Instead, he settled on prevarication: "Come, come, my dear. Mr Darcy is hardly the only young man you are likely to meet. There are plenty more fish in the sea. You need not rush into matrimony for fear of being left on the shelf. Besides, a girl likes to be crossed in love now and again."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. It was not her ambition to marry simply for the sake of being married. She had always hoped to marry for _love_ , to a man she esteemed and respected, even though she was aware the chances of such a match were small. Against all expectations, that opportunity was now before her, and yet her father treated it as nothing. "I do not _want_ another fish, Papa," she replied. "I prefer the one I have already caught. In any case, I hardly think I am ever likely to receive a better offer! You should be happy to have one of your daughters so well settled, and at so little inconvenience to yourself."

"Little inconvenience, do you call it?" her father cried, incredulously, his careful strategy forgotten in his outrage. "Do you not see how _inconvenient_ it would be for you to leave while I am left behind in a house full of silly women? Who is to keep me company, if you go off with Mr Darcy? Who will there be to discuss books with, or to play chess, or share a joke with? Who will help me with the accounts and the tenants? Who will be my helpmeet then?"

Elizabeth drew a deep breath in dismay. Did all her father's professed affection, all his arguments about her future happiness, all his concern about _her_ respecting her partner in life, come down to this, then? Was he so selfish that he would sacrifice the happiness of his favourite child in order to secure his own comfort and enable him to continue in his indolent ways? Her heart cracked at the thought. Her beloved father had always been her ally in the family. But not, it seemed, for her own sake. The thought of spending the rest of her life sharing his study, growing - like him - ever more misanthropic, catering to her father's whims while her friends and sisters all married and moved out into the world, chilled her to the bone.

Without answering her father's outburst, Elizabeth simply stood and left the room. Mt Bennet watched her go with a sense of satisfaction: clearly, he thought, she saw the sense of his position and accepted his decision.

But as soon as the door was closed between Elizabeth and her father, she leaned back against it and said, "Well, then, I shall know how to act." She went in search of her one sure ally in this household.

© 2018


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note:** Apologies for the long wait for this chapter. My only excuse is an excess of real life getting in the way. I hope to get a couple of chapters up in the next few days. elag

 **Chapter 14**

It took only a few moments to locate a maid who who could direct Elizabeth to the right room. Her aunt and uncle were still with their children and had not yet retired to their own rooms for the evening, so Elizabeth made her way to the nursery.

She spent a few minutes feigning good cheer as she greeted her young cousins and helped settle their high spirits in preparation for bed. It was already well past their usual bedtime - a particular indulgence granted by their parents in consideration of them having been parted for several weeks - and they displayed that alternating excitement and droopiness characteristic of very tired children. The youngest boy stamped his little foot and loudly asserted that he was not even a bit tired, but a few moments in his mother's arms saw his eyelids drooping and his tense little body relax into slumber. Eventually, the combined efforts of Elizabeth, her aunt and uncle, saw them all tucked into their beds and reconciled to their parents' injunction that they go to sleep.

Elizabeth stepped quietly from the room, but instead of bidding the Gardiners a good night as they expected, she placed a hand on her uncle's arm to stay his departure and quietly asked for a word.

"Of course, Lizzy," he replied, stifling a yawn. "I know you would not ask if it was something that could wait for the morning. Come to my study, and I will hear whatever is troubling you."

"Not your study, if you please," was her rejoinder. "I believe my father is still enjoying your port and library. It is _my father_ I need to discuss with you." Elizabeth recognised the surprise in her uncle's eyes, echoed by the raised brows of her Aunt Gardiner who waited a little way down the corridor.

It was her aunt who spoke first: "Well then, Lizzy, step into our sitting room. I assure you your father would never intrude there."

The Gardiners' bedroom was adjoined by a private sitting room, modestly furnished in a homely and comfortable style. There were only two chairs set before the fire, but Mrs Gardiner pulled over a wooden chair from a small writing desk at one side of the room, and promptly sat in it, her arms folded. It was clear that she intended to be part of the discussion, and she looked with expectant curiosity at her husband and niece as they took their seats. Elizabeth, who had intended a private conversation with her uncle, considered for a moment before speaking. She could appeal to her uncle in practical, business-like terms. Her aunt's presence meant she needed to invoke heartstrings as well as purse strings. But on reflection, she realised that neither was likely to act in such a matter without the advice and support of the other, and she might as well speak to them both at once.

"My _father_ ," she began, not bothering to disguise the scorn with which she referred to Mr Bennet, "tells me he intends to deny Mr Darcy's application for my hand."

The shock displayed on the faces before her was everything she could have wished for. Before they gathered themselves to speak, she plowed on: "Mr Darcy sought a private audience with my father this afternoon, and, having secured my consent, asked for his. Papa refused to answer, and put him off to tomorrow, saying he needed to speak to me before giving his answer. But he told _me_ that he will refuse his consent!"

"This is extraordinary!" exploded her uncle. "To refuse an honourable man of wealth and property! Did he offer any explanation?"

"Oh, he was full of explanations," said Elizabeth sourly. "He hoped I hated Mr Darcy and had only agreed to marry him for his money. He barely seemed to notice the insult to my honour that implied. When I assured him I love Fitzwilliam, and would marry him if he was worth only enough to keep the wolf from the door, my father tried a panoply of other, equally spurious, arguments.

"In the end, though, he told me the truth. I don't think he had planned to, but he lost his temper and it came out." Elizabeth took a deep breath and tried to quell the tears she felt about to spill from her eyes. "It is not about Mr Darcy at all. Mr Bennet plans that I should never marry. He has decided I should be his companion for the remainder of his life: managing the estate so he needed not be bothered with it; protecting him from the need to spend time with my mother; keeping him amused with games of chess and witty conversation; and joining him in making sport of his neighbours."

"Oh, Lizzy!" breathed Mrs Gardiner, in some distress, reaching out to clasp her niece's hand.

Her husband, as Elizabeth had hoped, was more belligerent in his response: "That is unconscionable!" he cried, leaping to his feet and pacing angrily before the fire. "Are you certain, Lizzy? You did not mistake his meaning?"

"No, sir," she answered. With the sympathy of her most beloved relatives, she regained control of her emotions and was once again able to discuss the matter with a calm demeanour, impressing the Gardiners' with her serious determination. "Mr Bennet was quite clear. He was quite angry that I did not immediately see the merit of his plan, and elaborated in the expectation that I would embrace such a fate once I understood it."

"But this is terrible," offered Mrs Gardiner. "You are not yet of age, and he has the power to turn Mr Darcy away. Oh, my poor Lizzy!"

"I think you underestimate that young man, my dear," said Mr Gardiner. "He is most fixed in his intentions. If the news of Lydia eloping with Wickham did not scare him away, you do not think he will be put off by a recalcitrant father, do you?" He turned to Elizabeth and added, "The question is, what are we to do about it? I take it you sought me out for more than a shoulder to cry on, Lizzy?"

"Indeed, Uncle. I have come to beg your aid. I think Lydia is not the only daughter who might surprise my father."

This broke the tension in the room: Mr Gardiner snorted in amusement and resumed his seat. "What would you have us do, my dear?" he asked.

Elizabeth paused a moment. She was about to take a step that could never be undone. Some would say she was betraying a daughter's first duty - to honour her father and her mother, as the Commandment would have it. Or that she was displaying an abominable sort of conceited independence, to insist upon a future beyond the familiar life her father had planned for her. She could not find it in herself to resile from the path she had chosen, but she could - and did - deeply regret the necessity of it.

The father she had thought she knew - the father who could command her respect and who she would have felt obliged to obey - was lost to her. Perhaps he had always been an illusion, borne of her own wishful thinking. Perhaps he had once been a better man, but years of disappointment and inertial had allowed a jaundiced view to overtake his better instincts. It really did not matter now. The man she had left in her uncle's study was not a parent she could honour. Although she herself had not noticed it, her uneasy shifting between calling him "my father" and "Mr Bennet" said as much to her uncle and aunt of her disenchantment with that man than the actual tale she told.

Straightening her shoulders and sitting ramrod straight in her chair, Elizabeth firmed her resolve. She would _not_ spend her life in service to her father's selfishness. If the best she could hope for was a life in service, then she would seek employment as a governess or as companion to an elderly widow - anything where she was valued for herself and had the choice to stay or go- where she could seize the reins of her own destiny.

But as it happened, she now had the prospect of true happiness. Against all odds, she had been reconciled with the only many who had ever loved her, and discovered, somewhat to her own surprise, that she loved him too. It was the sort of unlikely coincidence which was the stuff of romance novels, but she would not quibble. Elizabeth Bennet would grab the chance that life had dealt her and secure a better future than ever her mother's vivid imagination might have conjured. She _would_ marry Mr Darcy!

"Uncle," she began, "when Jane and I have visited London over the years, and when we went on our holiday this time, did Mr Bennet give you authority to act in his stead as my guardian?"

"Yes," said Mr Gardiner, thoughtfully.

"And what were the terms of that arrangement? Was it for a specific time, or expressed in any limited way?"

"Well, he has said nothing specific since you were knee-high to a grasshopper. The first time you and Jane came to London for a holiday without your parents, your father spoke very seriously to me, pointing out that so long as you were in my care, I was _in loco parentis_ and must care for you as my own children. I remember it well, because he used the Latin, and I had to ask him to elaborate to be sure I had it correctly. He explained that I stood in the place of a parent, and would have to make all the decisions a parent might need to make. He pointed out that it might take too long for a message to reach Longbourn if a decision needed to be made quickly, although, knowing him, he was also pleased by the prospect of not being bothered with messages flying back and forth. Of course, you were only seven at the time, and Jane nine, so I doubt he had anything so serious as wedlock in mind! Since then, he has simply said "Take good care of my girls", or something similar whenever you have come to us, but that original injunction has always stood."

Elizabeth smiled tightly - a stretching of the lips that looked more pained than happy. "You have been good to your word, Uncle. And you, too, Aunt. I have always felt safe and cared for in your company. So to be clear, while we were travelling this last month, you believe that you had the authority to act in my father's stead in respect of things affecting me?"

"Yes, quite definitely so. Should something have befallen you, I would have been responsible for your care. Should you have asked to do something unusual, I would have been the one to make the decision whether to allow it or not. I was _in loco parentis_ from the moment you boarded our carriage to leave Longbourn. But I can hardly say I still have that authority when your father is here in the same house, Lizzy."

"Oh, no. I quite understand that. But I was wondering. Mr Bennet has not yet given Mr Darcy an answer. He has told _me_ what he plans to say, but has not actually said it, either to my suitor or to you. You could not possibly suspect that he would be so foolish as to refuse such an offer. You did not hesitate to approve Mr Darcy's request for a courtship. Indeed, I recall when we first heard of Lydia's disappearance, you pressed him quite firmly about his intentions, and made his journeying to London with us conditional upon his persisting with his suit." Elizabeth waited while both her uncle and aunt nodded their agreement. Sure she had their undivided attention, she continued: "Here is what I have in mind."

© 2018


	15. Chapter 15

Elizabeth raised one eyebrow in challenge as she laid out her scheme. Mrs Gardiner was an enthusiastic supporter - she was keen to help the cause of true love and had never thought too much of her husband's youngest sister and her indolent brother-in-law. Mr Gardiner, as Elizabeth had expected, was both more difficult to convince and more essential to the plan. She knew he was just as sympathetic as her aunt, but he was above all a practical man. It was this she was relying on to overcome her father's opposition, after all. Elizabeth spent considerable time setting out the details of what she proposed, since Uncle Gardiner would need to be convinced there were no loopholes through which Mr Bennet could cause an impediment or exact his revenge, but also dwelt on the Gardiners' own interests in the her match with Darcy.

"There may indeed be some cooling of relations between Gracechurch Street and Longbourn," she acknowledged, "but you will gain a connection with the Darcys of Pemberley. Even if my father stirs himself enough to withdraw his investments from your management, the patronage of Mr and Mrs Darcy will more than compensate for any loss. You know my future husband well enough to believe that he has already spoken of his respect for your business acumen, and intends to speak to you about possibly working together on a venture he has in mind. Truth be told, I suspect he would do so whether or not you help me confound my father, for he is not impulsive in the management of his investments and would not have spoken had he not already given it considerable thought. But my point is simply that if you must take prudential considerations into account, I would stand by your future nephew rather than your brother: he has more to give."

"Careful, Lizzy," cautioned her aunt. "You begin to sound as cynical as your father." But this reprimand was delivered with such an affectionate smile that it did not sting.

Instead Elizabeth laughed lightly and said, "He has taught me well, then!" before adding, "I do not say you would only act for mercenary reasons. I know that you both love me, as I love you, and would do what you can to help me. But I am asking a great deal of you, and I know it will cause some uneasiness. I merely want to remind you that there are practical benefits as well."

"There would be uneasiness whether or no we help you in this, Lizzy," her uncle replied. "I do not think I can ever return to the easy friendship I have had with your father in the past, knowing what he intended for his favourite daughter. _That_ ship has sailed. In any case, we could not in good conscience abandon you to such a fate while there is something we can do about it. Your plan is a good one, and we will put it into action immediately. I will write to Mr Darcy and send a runner to his house immediately. Do you want to enclose a brief note?"

Elizabeth thought that a wonderful idea, and after pressing her aunt and uncle's hands in warm gratitude, accepted a paper and quill, scratching out a quick note using the upturned tea tray as a makeshift desk while her uncle restored the wooden chair to its proper place and used the writing desk to compose his missive. A servant lad was soon shaken from his slumber by the oven and sent across town to deliver a letter. He was under strict instructions that it must be entrusted to none but the intended recipient, and was to wait for an answer.

Darcy had long since lost count of how often he had paced from the fireplace to the window of his study and back again that evening. He had been unable to settle to any useful task, nor to relax with a book. Even drinking had seemed unwise in his present humour, so an elegant glass of the finest claret stood untouched on the mantlepiece. An unexpected messenger was just what he needed to shake him out of his solitary contemplation, so when his butler asked what he wanted done with an impudent lad who insisted on delivering his letter only into the hand of the master of the house despite the late hour, Darcy had directed that he be shown in immediately. Whatever the message was, it could not be worse than haunting his own study in frustrated anxiety.

By the time a smartly-uniformed if slightly rumpled and out of breath youngster was shown into Darcy's study, that gentleman was already worried about the content of the message, although he was seated with apparent composure behind his large desk. What could be so urgent that it must be delivered in the dark of night? When he recognised the uniform as that of the Gardiners' servants, he leapt to his feet and strode around the desk to take the letter from the boy's hand. Had something happened to Elizabeth? Had Wickham escaped? Had Mr Bennet decided to turn him down in writing rather than face-to-face? All his worst imaginings rushed to the fore, and he hurriedly tore open the seal.

The note was from Mr Gardiner, and another folded within it fell to Darcy's feet as he hurried to open it. The messenger boy picked the second note up and held it out to the fine gentleman as he perused the first. He watched with interest as Mr Darcy's face, which had been frowning and worried when he entered the room, at first cleared in relief and then looked … well, if he was not such a very tall and rich gentleman, the boy would have said he looked _confused_. Perhaps the end of the letter was in the second page that Mr Darcy had dropped. Clearing his throat to remind the preoccupied gentleman that he was still in the room, he proffered the fallen note again.

Mr Darcy was indeed confused. He had understood Mr Gardiner's letter. The request expressed therein was clear and unambiguous. His confusion arose from not understanding the reason for such a change in plans. His only ambition for the morrow was to return to Gracechurch Street and resume his conversation with Mr Bennet. Hopefully by then, Elizabeth would have had time to persuade him of the depth of her affections and to win his consent. Yet now Mr Gardiner asked him to come to his warehouse to discuss a shipping venture, and stressed that it was of the utmost importance that he go there first thing in the morning, before calling at Gracechurch Street. It seemed most irregular. And now there was this extra note - perhaps an afterthought which might shed more light on things - that the messenger boy was handing him.

"What is this, boy?" he asked.

"It were in the letter, sir. You dropped it as you opened it." he explained. Mr Darcy thanked him and took the second page, opening it no less hastily than the first. (Luckily, there were no further layers of correspondence, so the messenger was free to stand and wait, without having to chase after more dropped pages.)

As Darcy unfolded the second page, he realised it was written in a different hand. His eyes flew to the signature at the bottom and he gasped as he realised it was from his Elizabeth. What she had to say indeed shed more light on her uncle's surprising request, and with a greater understanding of what was afoot, Darcy sat at his desk to pen a quick response. It was addressed only to Mr Gardiner, as was proper, and expressed his agreement to the proposed business meeting on the morrow. The messenger returned to Gracechurch Street with alacrity, looking forward to resuming his cozy spot in the kitchen and getting in a few hours sleep before he was displaced by the kitchen maids when they arrived to begin the day's cooking. Mr Darcy's answer was soon in the hands of Mr Gardiner, who popped his head in to Elizabeth's room to reassure her that the message had been received and understood.

Across town, Darcy reclined in the comfortable chair before his bedroom fireplace, clasping Elizabeth's letter to his chest. It was the first and only letter he had ever received from that lady, and he would have treasured it had it only been an invitation to take tea, but it was more - much more - than that. It was everything.

He unfolded it and read it again:

 _"_ _My dear William, for so I hope to call you for the rest of my days, please do as my uncle asks. I know it seems like a distraction, but I promise that this is the quickest way to my heart. And as my heart is already yours, it is only sensible for you to take the quickest path to secure it. I will meet you there. Your loving E."_

Clearly some mischief was afoot. Since his Elizabeth was involved, that did not greatly surprise him, though he could not help but wonder what twist of fate required him to rendezvous with her at a warehouse rather than at the Gardiner's comfortable home. He was sure Mr Bennet was at the heart of it, and once again he suffered a shiver of anxiety as he contemplated that man's strange demeanour during their interview. But whatever the reason, he would go where he was bid, for there he would meet his beloved, and she had given him her heart.

Resting his head against the back of the chair, Darcy closed his eyes and conjured an image of Elizabeth, face bright in the sunlight and hair blowing loose from its pins. She called him her "dear William", and laughed that clear, bright laughter that had first entrapped his heart. That organ sang within his chest, beating strongly in anticipation of the dream becoming a reality. Half an hour before, he had despaired of getting any rest that night. Now he knew it to be an impossibility. His Elizabeth loved him, and he need never sleep again!

Of course, sitting in a comfortable chair before the fire and dreaming of a beautiful woman is not a tried and tested method of remaining awake, and Darcy slipped from relaxed fantasy into true dreaming some time in the early hours of the morning. He was awoken by his valet, who had clearly been trying to rouse him for some time. His neck was stiff from sleeping in the chair rather than in the very comfortable four-poster bed that stood only a few feet away, and his head was groggy with the remnants of complete relaxation.

"I am sorry to wake you, sir, but it is getting rather late if you plan to make any visits this morning," said his man, with more irritation than was strictly proper in his voice. No doubt he had been waiting impatiently for his master to rise so he could complete his work for the morning and break his own fast: Billings was never at his best when he was hungry.

Then, gradually, his valet's words sank in, and Darcy rose with a sudden urgency. Checking the mantle clock, he saw with a sinking heart that it was already past ten o'clock. He dressed faster than he had at any time since he first met Elizabeth in the grounds of Pemberley, eschewed the offer of breakfast, distractedly downed a coffee as he stood in the foyer waiting for his horse to be led around from the stables. It was there that Georgiana found him.

"What on earth is going on, William?" she demanded. "I have been patiently waiting for you in the breakfast room, only to be told you were about to leave the house. Is there something wrong? Is it Wickham? Is there anything I can do?"

"It is nothing like that. I have confidence in Mr Gardiner's friend, the Captain. I am sure that our old friend is currently learning how to be of use on a ship, and that we will never see him again. No, my dear. There is nothing you can do to help, but I must be away as soon as possible. Miss Elizabeth is waiting for me, and I dread to imagine what she will think of me if I miss this appointment. I promise I will tell you all when I get home."

Georgiana giggled in relief. "Well, if that is all, be off with you," she said, taking his empty coffee cup from his hand. "You know I want you to bring Lizzy home to be my new sister. It will not do to keep her waiting."

Darcy needed no further urging. He kissed his sister on the cheek and ran down the front stairs to take the reins from a startled groom who was walking a saddled horse around the corner of the house. Darcy was mounted and on his way to Cheapside a mere forty minutes after waking, hoping against hope that he could reach his destination before the appointed time of eleven am.

 _ **Author's note:** I know everyone is eager to find out what Lizzy's plan is, and I promise it will all be revealed soon. I'm publishing these chapters hot off the keyboard as soon as they are written, so apologies for any typos or continuity errors. I rely on you all to point them out in your reviews. elag_

© 2018


	16. Chapter 16

The Gardiner household had been up and about for several hours. The hubbub caused by even the best-behaved small children ensured that it was difficult to sleep in, should anyone have been inclined to indulge. As it happened, only Mr Bennet resented the early start to the day, and he was in a mood to resent just about anything, so it cannot be thought he would have welcomed keeping town hours any more should he have been given the options. He mustered a smile to greet his hosts and daughter at the breakfast table, attempting to engage Elizabeth in conversation but meeting only calm silence from that direction. Even the Gardiners - usually pleasant conversationalists - were unusually quiet this morning.

Mr Bennet shortly abandoned his facade of good cheer, threw his napkin down beside his half-empty plate, and declared his intention to spend the morning in Mr Gardiner's study in case there were any visitors seeking an audience. As an afterthought he added, "if you will not be needing the room, Gardiner?" Mr Gardiner assured him he was welcome to the study this morning, "as I plan to visit my warehouse to meet with a potential investor. I might take Lizzy with me to show her some of the new wares in from India, if that is alright with you?"

"Yes, yes. The more time she spends out of the house this morning the better. Show her your bibs and bobs. She needs some distraction. I find she has become much too solemn of late. Perhaps you can cheer her up. I entrust her to your care with all good will." All this was said without even glancing in Elizabeth's direction, though she sat not three feet from him, and then he left for the study, to devise some means to put Darcy off again without directly refusing him.

Elizabeth merely rolled her eyes. Her father's continued dismissal of her as too childish to know her own mind still hurt, but in the previous day's discussion, he had so broken her trust in his affection, that this further proof was like an ache in an old wound, rather than a new injury. A sympathetic glance from Mrs Gardiner reminded her that she was not alone, and she turned her mind to the real reason for her visit to her uncle's warehouse. She had more to look forward to than a preview of his Indian imports.

After breakfast, Elizabeth and the Gardiners made their way three blocks through Cheapside to the Gardiner Imports warehouse. As the warehouse was so convenient to their home, there was no need for a carriage, and the trio enjoyed a stroll through the busy streets, looking in shop windows and exchanging greetings with their friends and neighbours. They reached their destination in good time, a full half hour before Mr Darcy was expected.

Although she had designed the scheme they were following, Elizabeth could not suppress her nervousness. So many things could go wrong. Everything depended on so many variables falling into place at the right time. She could not settle, and paced nervously in her uncle's office until he laughingly suggested she might in fact need the distraction her father had prescribed for her, and took her to view the array of Indian scarves and silks that were set out in the display area near the front of the warehouse. "You really should look at my bibs and bobs, you know. I would not want Mr Bennet to be able to call me a liar!"

"If it is necessary to preserve your reputation as an honourable man, Uncle, then I will happily examine the latest stock," Elizabeth said with a smile. She welcomed the chance to do something other than wait, and indeed Mr Gardiner imported a fine selection of fabrics and spices, and she always relished the chance to see the exotic items that often accompanied his regular stock. "I hope Mr Darcy arrives soon, though. I find myself uncommonly anxious. I know it is silly, but until he is actually here, I cannot help but worry that he might change his mind, or that something unexpected might arise to prevent him from coming."

"Don't fret, my dear. Nothing could keep Mr Darcy away. He sent me a note last night, confirming that he would be here. He is a man of his word. You may rely upon him arriving on the stroke of eleven."

Elizabeth visibly relaxed, and a fond smile crept across her face. Her uncle was right, and she could depend on Fitzwilliam Darcy to keep his word. He would come. This confidence lasted until her uncle's fob watch showed eleven. She even maintained a reasonable semblance of calm until eleven-fifteen, though the quarter hour had dragged slowly enough to seem a lifetime. By the time a harried Darcy pulled a lathered horse to a stop in front of the warehouse at eleven twenty, she was on the verge of tears. She was so overcome with relief at his arrival that she turned her back on him in an attempt to regain her composure, leaving Darcy worried that she would not speak to him and enable him to apologise for his tardiness.

Instead, it was Mr Gardiner who greeted his somewhat breathless guest and directed a hand to take charge of his horse, which was much in need of care.

"I am sorry to have kept you waiting, sir," offered Darcy, in such earnest tones that Elizabeth gained the courage to turn around. The look of teary happiness he saw on her face both comforted and alarmed him. He took a step towards her before remembering his manners and bowing politely. "Miss Elizabeth, it is _very_ good to see you again," he said.

This evidence of his continued affection was exactly what the lady needed, and she quickly dabbed at her cheeks before treating him to an unalloyed grin. Darcy gazed at her happily for a few moments before his reverie was interrupted by Mr Gardiner. "Thank you for coming, Mr Darcy. I have a joint venture of great importance to discuss with you. I learned last evening that it had become a matter of great urgency, hence my request for this meeting. I apologise for disrupting your plans for the day, but I am sure you will see the benefits of the scheme, and understand the need to act speedily while the opportunity still exists. Shall we step into my office to discuss it?"

It was clear that Darcy was not best pleased at the prospect of a business discussion, but he was too much the gentleman to demur, and in any case, he understood the importance of remaining on good terms with Elizabeth's favourite relatives, and so he simply bowed his head in acquiescence and followed Mr Gardiner and Elizabeth into the manager's office.

Like his study at home, Mr Gardiner's office displayed a pleasing combination of good taste, comfort and utility. He took a seat behind an imposing desk of dark wood and leather upon which a ledger, pen and inkwell were neatly arrayed. Darcy and Elizabeth took the two seats waiting before the desk, although Elizabeth turned hers so that she was facing the two men equally. This prompted Darcy to shift his own chair so that they sat more in a circle than otherwise, despite the presence of the desk.

"I must admit I am intrigued to know what venture is so urgent as to require my immediate attendance, Mr Gardiner," Darcy said. "I am usually averse to the sort of speculations that demand their investors commit funds without taking the time to consider things carefully, but I trust you do not speak of anything like that.?

"Indeed not," replied Gardiner, barely repressing his smile. Despite the urgency of his summons, he did not seem to be in hurry to commence laying out his business proposition. Instead, he began to discuss Bennet family arrangements - a matter which at another time might have fascinated Darcy but which at the moment only served to irritate him. He had ridden across London at a pace which had endangered both his mount and several pedestrians, a ride which would doubtlessly become the topic of gossip in the ton, only to be met with idle chit-chat.

"I understand you share guardianship of your sister with a cousin," began Gardiner. At Darcy's wary nod, he continued, "Then I am sure you will understand what I mean when I explain that when Lizzy is in my care and my brother Bennet is not there, I stand _in loco parentis_ , and have many times acted in his stead. Indeed, it is a standing arrangement between us - he has long granted me the power - and the duty - to act the part of Lizzy's father." He smiled in fond reminiscence, adding "and many is the time I have had to put my fatherly foot down to curtail some hare-brained scheme she dreamed up. I must say, though, that I quite approve of her hare-brained scheme for today."

Darcy turned a confused face to his beloved, who was, uncharacteristically, blushing and looking at the hands firmly clasped in her lap. "Elizabeth?" he asked, and was delighted to see that the eyes she raise to meet his own were sparking with some hidden excitement. "Does this scheme involve me?"

"I most fervently hope so, William," she replied, but then confusingly returned the conversation to business: "Please listen very carefully to my uncle's proposition."

"If you wish it." Darcy reluctantly tore his gaze from Elizabeth's and turned back to Mr Gardiner, who had been entertained by the interaction between the two lovers, but was ready to get down to business.

"Mr Darcy, the joint venture I speak of is the Bennet family. You have previously spoken of your determination to make that family your own, so I do not think it is a venture you have failed to give due consideration to. I would not rush you sir, but there is now a degree of urgency which makes it imperative that you come to the point today. Now, actually. As you see, I am here. Elizabeth is here. And Mr Bennet is not. Therefore it is my duty to act in place of Elizabeth's father."

Seeing Darcy about to quibble, he said, "No, do not speak yet, sir! I know what you would say: 'Mr Bennet is only a few streets away.' I do not deny it. But anyone who knows my brother-in-law knows he will not stir himself away from a book room for anything less than a crisis - a few streets might as well be half the kingdom away when it comes to Thomas Bennet! In any case, as we parted this morning, he expressly entrusted Elizabeth to my care while we were out of the house. This is important, sir, and you must accept that I have a better understanding of these matters than you."

Darcy looked to Elizabeth, who was nodding enthusiastically in support of her uncle's comments, before he slowly bowed his head to Gardiner, silently inviting him to continue uninterrupted.

"Good, then," said Gardiner crisply, to all appearances the tradesman about to offer his wares for sale, "let us get to business. I am here. Elizabeth is here. Mr Bennet is not. I have learned from trading with the East that many people believe that there are particular moments that are more favourable for making important deals than others. I would say, Mr Darcy, that this particular moment - right here and right now - is a particularly auspicious moment for this particular joint venture. If you have a question to ask, sir, now would be a very good time to ask it." Noting Darcy's raised eyebrows, he quickly added, "And make very sure it is the right question. It would not do to leave anything unsettled that might require you to ask for more at a less auspicious moment."

Darcy was flabbergasted. Was Mr Gardiner _really_ suggesting he should bypass Elizabeth's father and ask consent from her _uncle_? And he had said this was Elizabeth's idea? He had always understood Elizabeth to be particularly close to her father. Could she really have thought this through properly? Ignoring Gardiner for the moment, he turned to take his beloved's hands in his own and look carefully at her face as he asked, "Is this really what you want, my love?"

"Trust me, William," she replied earnestly, "I want this more than anything."

"Well then," he said, sinking to one knee on the wooden office floor, "I might have preferred a more romantic setting, but I Miss Elizabeth Bennet, will you do me the very great honour of becoming my wife?"

Elizabeth was teary again, but smiling luminously with it. "I would be delighted, William. If my uncle consents, then I am yours. I love you most dearly."

She turned to Mr Gardiner, who knew his cue, and sternly demanded, "Do you have something to ask of me, Mr Darcy?"

Darcy's joy at securing Elizabeth's love spilled over: the expression of heartfelt delight, diffused over his face, became him. He resumed his seat, his natural fastidiousness revealing itself in the way he absently brushed the dust from his trouser leg and straightened his waistcoat before addressing Mr Gardiner.

"Sir, your niece, Miss Elizabeth, has made me the happiest of men by agreeing to my proposal of marriage. I now seek your consent and blessing for our union."

"Well done, lad!" Gardiner's approbation was clear. "I happily grant you my consent on behalf of her father, and my blessing as well. I cannot imagine any good reason Mr Bennet might have for refusing your request, and am confident that any loving father would have me act expeditiously to secure his beloved daughter's future. Now, just to make things formal, I have a draft settlement here. It can always be varied later if you are not satisfied with the terms, but it would comfort me to know my Lizzy's future was secure even should some mishap befall you before the wedding."

Darcy's eyes bulged at this impudence. A marriage settlement was not a thing to be taken lightly, and all his native caution against being rushed into financial arrangements came to the fore. "Is such haste really necessary?" he asked in surprise, but before he could continue, a small hand reached across and rested on his forearm, effectively stilling him.

"It would be for the best, William," Elizabeth said.

It was enough. If his Elizabeth asked it of him, then he would trust she knew what she was about. He looked at the document Mr Gardiner presented, and was surprised at the very modest terms proposed. He took the pen from Gardiner's desk, dipped it in the inkwell, and firmly scratched out the figure written in as Elizabeth's pin money, replacing it with a much larger number and initialling the change, as well as each of the three pages, before signing in full at the end. He watched in silence as Mr Gardiner added his own initials and signature before setting the pages aside for the ink to dry.

"I will have my solicitors draw up a replacement at my first opportunity, but this will do for now," he said. Turning to Elizabeth he added mildly, "I hope that some day you will explain all this to me, my dear."

"Now that we are engaged," Elizabeth answered, "I can tell you everything." and she proceeded to do so. Darcy's dismay that Mr Bennet had planned to reject his suit was soon replaced by anger when Elizabeth enumerated the various arguments he had put forward in support of such a stance.

"But you had a ready answer for all his objections, Elizabeth. And you say you assured him of our mutual affection. Why could he not see the benefits of the match?" The previous evening Darcy had granted Mr Bennet the benefit of the doubt: despite his uneasiness with the hostile tone of the interview, he had convinced himself that Mr Bennet merely wanted to bet sure of Elizabeth's happiness before granting his consent. But to hear such a litany of objections, including some he had previously heard from Elizabeth herself in response to his first proposal at Hunsford, hurt him deeply. "I have done nothing to earn such enmity from him!"

"Oh, my dear, it was not about you at all," said his betrothed.

"Not about me?" he asked, confused. "But it was me he was speaking about!"

"There were two things really motivating him. One he did not even realise himself, and the other he revealed toward the end of our conversation. Be patient, my dear, and it will become clear. First, my father is an indolent man. Having formed a view, he does not like to give himself the bother of changing it. He would rather invent arguments for his original position, however spurious they may be, than to accept evidence that calls his opinion into question. As a result, he is quite a belligerent arguer. It did not matter how much I explained to him his errors, he had taken a stance, and was not inclined to change it."

Darcy interrupted again: "We all like to think we are right, and are unhappy to be proved wrong, but only a fool would believe themselves never in need of correction!"

"I fear Mr Bennet has heard none but his own counsel for too many years," suggested Mr Gardiner. "But you still have not told him the most important reason, Lizzy."

Thus prompted, Elizabeth braced herself to reveal her father's true character, and the depth of his betrayal of his favourite daughter. "Mr Bennet grew angry when I refuted each of his objections. In his anger, he explained the true reason he would refuse you, or any other suitor: he is determined to keep me at Longbourn to do all the work of running the estate (so that he need not shift to do so), and to provide him with amusement in the evenings. You might have been the heir to the throne and he would still have refused you. _You_ were irrelevant. He thought only of _himself_ \- _his_ ease and _his_ comfort.

"Oh, he would have delayed giving you a straight answer as long as he could, for he enjoys what he calls "making sport" of others, but in the end he would have refused his consent. I am not of age for another eight months, and even then marriage without his consent would have caused a scandal. I would rather not impose that on my sisters and mother, nor begin our married life under a cloud of gossip.:

Elizabeth could see that Darcy was incandescent with rage by now. It was not an unexpected reaction from a man who took his responsibility for those under his care so seriously, and it warmed her to know he felt such anger on her behalf, but the day was not yet over, and she needed him to play his part. She deliberately lightened her tone, saying cheerfully, "So it seemed best to secure parental consent without giving Mr Bennet an opportunity to give you his answer. I must thank my dear Uncle Gardiner for teaching me some Latin - _in loco parentis_ \- and for enabling us to put another Latin phrase into action: _carpe diem!_ Now, my _dear_ Mr Darcy, we must beard the lion in his den (though I think we will find him nothing more than a surly barn cat)." Turning serious once more, she added, "We have outmanoeuvred Mr Bennet. He cannot undo an engagement made with parental consent and where a settlement has been signed. But it would be best for my family - for _our_ family - if we can contain his reaction."

© 2018


	17. Chapter 17

"I will certainly accompany you to Gracechurch Street to share our good news with your father, Elizabeth," Darcy could not restrain himself from taking Elizabeth's hand as he spoke, and punctuating his remarks with a kiss to her knuckles.,"but might I first suggest a slight amendment to your plan?"

She turned her hand in his and clasped his hand warmly. "What do you have in mind, my love?" she asked.

The smouldering warmth he felt at such an avowal of her affection near distracted him from his purpose, but with a visible effort, he brought his focus back to the conversation at hand: "I have wanted to visit Bingley and apologise for my unwonted interference in his affairs, but have been hesitant to do so knowing that Miss Bingley would be present, no doubt attempting to listen to eavesdrop. If we were all to visit now, we could accomplish two things at once - we could announce our engagement, which would make it even harder for your father to later object, and you and Mrs Gardiner could keep Miss Bingley company while Mr Gardiner and I seek a private meeting with Bingley about a business matter. You will remember Miss Bingley took particular interest in your relatives in trade? She will readily believe that Mr Gardiner's business with Bingley is of a commercial rather than a family nature, and will disdain to show any interest in such affairs. This will give us the peace we need for a difficult conversation. If I am lucky, Bingley will forgive me, and decide to re-open Netherfield Park at once. I hope that Miss Bennet might be pleased to see him again?"

"Indeed she might, although he will have some apologising to do himself, I suspect," Elizabeth replied. "I thank you for undertaking the mortification in risking his displeasure, though."

Darcy said firmly, "It is the right thing to do, and should have been done sooner. I cannot be comfortable with our friendship when it rests on such a deception." Then, with a smile, he added, "But my purpose is not _entirely_ selfless: If Bingley goes to Netherfield, I will ask to go with him, and will thus have an excuse to return to Hertfordshire when you remove there."

"I must admit, I would like to meet the famous Mr Bingley," offered Mr Gardiner. "I am not at all sure he deserves Jane, after the way he disappointed her last winter, but if you both think he should be given another chance, I am willing to reserve judgement. Is his house far from here?"

"Not as far as Miss Bingley would have us think," quipped Darcy, and Elizabeth snorted. Darcy's horse was by now rested and fed, but he chose not to ride. Mr Gardiner kept a small open coach at his place of work, and this was ready for departure in a matter of minutes, with Darcy's horse tethered behind. Mr and Mrs Gardiner sat together to allow the engaged couple to share a seat. The clear affection between the young lovers, and their obliviousness to their surroundings, reminded them of their own courtship, and they shared a knowing smile before Mrs Gardiner demanded her future nephew's attention.

"Mr Darcy," she said, "I approve of your idea of announcing your engagement to Mr Bingley. Nothing could be more natural than to share such happy news with your friend. Perhaps we might take the idea a little further, though. What say you to placing a notice in the Times?"

"Of course," said Darcy. "It is the proper thing to do, after all! I shall draft a notice while we are at Bingley's and ensure it is sent off directly. And while I am attending to the proper things to do on one's engagement," and here he drew a small box from his coat pocket, "I am afraid I was a little overcome by the press of events a little while ago." He turned to face Elizabeth and opened the box to reveal an engagement ring. "I would be pleased if you would wear this in honour of our engagement."

"I would be delighted," she said, offering her hand for the purpose. Darcy slid the ring into place on her finger, taking the opportunity to caress her hand as he did so. Elizabeth held her hand up to examine the ring more closely, admiring its elegant design, before showing it off to her aunt and uncle.

It was not long before they arrived at the Bingley town house, where Darcy handed down both the ladies before Mr Gardiner had a chance to step down himself. The older man laughed at the younger's enthusiasm, and happily offered his arm to his wife, leaving Darcy to walk with Elizabeth.

The Bingleys' staff were decked out in a rather ostentatious uniform. The two footmen standing at guard at the front door appeared to be largely ornamental, as they did not stir to assist the visitors, but waited at stiff attention as an indoors servant arrived to open the door and usher them inside. After they were divested of hats and bonnets, they were shown with more ceremony than strictly required into a parlour where Miss Bingley and her brother were at tea. The scene reminded Elizabeth of her arrival at Netherfield Park the year before when Jane had been ill. Then she had also disturbed the Bingleys at their morning tea, and their surprise at her arrival was was echoed today: Mr Bingley was all delighted welcome while Miss Bingley was sneeringly shocked. But this time, Elizabeth arrived in company with Mr Darcy, and even the presence of Elizabeth Bennet and her Cheapside relatives could not long distract Caroline Bingley from bestowing her full attention on that gentleman.

"Mr Darcy," she cooed, "what an unexpected pleasure to see you. You have caught us at tea, as you see. Could I prepare you a cup?"

Darcy was too preoccupied by the interview he anticipated having with Charles Bingley to pay much attention to his sister's slight of Elizabeth and the Gardiners: he simply noted it as one more mark against that lady and continued as though it had not happened. Only Elizabeth noted, with some amusement, the slight clenching of his jaw before he spoke: "I have the honour of introducing you to Mr and Mrs Gardiner, of Gracechurch Street. Mr Gardiner, may I present Miss Caroline Bingley and Mr Charles Bingley. Of course, everyone already knows Miss Elizabeth." Once the niceties had been completed and the requisite bows and curtseys exchanged, he continued: "I apologise for intruding without notice, Miss Bingley, but there is an important matter of business I wish to discuss with your brother, and Mr Gardiner kindly agreed to attend and offer his expertise."

Charles Bingley took the hint, and asked the gentlemen to withdraw to his study while the ladies amused themselves in the parlour. Caroline Bingley's huff at being left in the company of Eliza Bennet and a tradesman's wife was clearly audible, but she recovered her manners sufficiently to invite her guests to take a seat and to offer them refreshments. As Elizabeth reached out her hand to accept the proffered cup of tea, Caroline's eyes widened as she noticed the expensive ring she wore. Clearly the Bennet chit had secured a proposal from a man of means, if that was the sort of bauble he gave her. Burning with curiosity but trying to maintain an air of nonchalance, she complimented the ring, asking, "Do you have some news to share, Miss Eliza?"

Elizabeth smiled demurely, considering how to prolong the suspense. "As it happens, you will be the first to hear my news, Miss Bingley, as it was only settled this morning. Who would have thought to receive a proposal of marriage in a warehouse in Cheapside? It was not the stuff of novels, I suppose, but the location did not matter to me: only the gentleman involved. As you may know, I have refused proposals in the past, when I was not sure the gentleman and I would suit. I can only be grateful that I did so, for it meant I was free today to accept the hand of a man I truly love." She paused to allow Miss Bingley the chance to catch up - for her eyes were still bulging at the idea of a proposal received in a warehouse.

Caroline had only the vaguest idea what a warehouse was like - her father had owned one, but she had never visited it, and wild horses would not drag her into one now. After a moment to consider the additional surprise that Elizabeth Bennet had already rejected previous suitors when she herself had never had a single proposal to accept or reject, she asked, "Who is the lucky man? Is it anyone I might know" She thought not - she did not move in the sort of circles that might frequent warehouses, let alone choose one as the place for a marriage proposal. She assumed that for all Miss Elizabeth's protestations of love, the match was a matter of business - perhaps she had been offered up to sweeten some deal between tradesmen - that would at least explain the locale. Satisfied with this speculation, she waited eagerly for Elizabeth's answer.

When it came, however, it shocked her to her core: "Indeed, it is. He is a dear friend of your brother's, and I believe you consider him quite a close acquaintance. I am the happiest of women. I have the very great honour to be the future Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy."

Elizabeth felt slightly guilty at the pleasure she felt in Caroline Bingley's dismay, but only slightly. She had been subjected to unrelenting barbs and cutting remarks from that lady throughout their acquaintance, and it was only fair to return the favour a little. She watched calmly as Miss Bingley paled and swayed in her seat, before gripping the chair arm firmly to support herself in the face of such terrible news. It was a full two minutes before she recovered sufficiently to speak, and with only a slight tremor in her voice to betray her disappointment, she offered her congratulations, which were politely received.

Mrs Gardiner, having some knowledge of the history between the two ladies, observed the exchange with interest, but then took the reins of the conversation, maintaining a light discussion of innocuous topics - everything from the weather to the fact that Lady Havelock and her two eldest sons were said to have returned to town after their year in mourning for Lord Havelock, and that the new Lord and his brother were said to be looking for wives. Thus the next half hour passed in idle chit-chat which did not tax any of the participants, and carefully avoided revisiting that topic which was foremost in their minds.

Charles Bingley was not himself. He had not been himself for nigh on eight months. He had been persuaded to leave Hertfordshire to protect his heart, but in doing so had sacrificed that very organ. His sisters assured him that in time he would forget the young lady he had left behind, would regain his _joie de vivre_ , would find someone new to love. Unfortunately, time had proved them wrong. He could imagine no path out of his current despondency that did not involve Miss Bennet. The only thing that kept him from rushing back to throw himself at her feet was the conviction that she did not care for him as he cared for her. He could not reconcile himself to making her unhappy by imposing his suit upon her against her wishes. So here he was, sitting in his parlour in London, pretending interest in whatever nonsense Caroline was wittering on about, and counting the minutes until he could politely retire to his rooms where he could indulge himself in his misery. As it was still mid-morning, it would be a long wait.

He did not expect his friend Darcy to be announced, let alone with Miss Bennet's younger sister, Elizabeth in tow, together with the famous uncle and aunt from London. His astonishment was complete. He stood, confused and a little taken aback, while Darcy batted away Caroline's foolishness and took command of the introductions. He mastered himself enough to offer bows when appropriate and to murmur the usual platitudes of welcome, before Darcy claimed a need to speak to him about business, and practically ushered Bingley and Gardiner towards Bingley's study. He had compared notes on potential investments with Darcy from time to time, but found it difficult to believe that any investment so urgent as this one seemed to be would attract the interest of the ever cautious Fitzwilliam Darcy. His curiosity aroused, he put his ill humour aside for the moment and played the part of gracious host.

Bingley's study contained a desk, since that was considered an essential accoutrement for such a room, but in truth he barely used it. He preferred to work at a table set closer to the window, surrounded by four chairs. His business matters involved many meetings and consultations, and he found it conducive to sit as an equal in such gatherings, rather than looming behind his desk. It was to this table that he led his guests today, himself sitting at the head while Gardiner took a seat with his back to the window.

Instead of sitting, however, Darcy began to pace restlessly about the room. "For goodness sake, sit down, man," his friend said with fond exasperation. Bingley was familiar with Darcy's habits when there was some matter on his mind, and knew that he would eventually learn whatever it was Darcy had come to say, but he was never blessed with an excess of patience and was not above prompting his friend to come to the point before they all grew too much older. "And tell me what this business is that couldn't wait, and what it has to do with the Bennets."

Darcy did not sit, but at least he ceased pacing. Standing at the fireplace with one hand resting on the mantlepiece, he looked earnestly at Bingley and said, "It will not do. Too long have I borne this shame. I must tell you what I have done, Charles, and I do not know if you will find it in yourself to forgive me. But I abhor secrecy, and neither of you deserve to be treated so shabbily."

"You are not making much sense," observed Bingley, assured above all else by Darcy's use of his Christian name that his friend was in earnest, "but whatever it is will not get any easier to say for all your pacing. As your friend, I will hear whatever you have to say, and I will tell you exactly what I think."

"That is exactly what I should have supposed of you," said Darcy. He gazed for a moment out the window, then strode to the table and took the seat facing his friend.

"First, I must explain the presence of Miss Elizabeth and her relatives. I renewed my acquaintance with Miss Elizabeth while she was travelling with Mr and Mrs Gardiner this summer. Their travels took them to Derbyshire, where we met quite by chance. But it was a happy chance for me, as it gave me an opportunity to improve Miss Elizabeth's opinion of me, and she has done me the great honour of accepting my hand in marriage. The notice will be in the paper tomorrow. She is currently staying with the Gardiners in town, and we have come directly from Cheapside to tell you the news."

Bingley looked more sad than otherwise at this news, but stirred himself to offer his congratulations. "I have always thought highly of Miss Elizabeth, but had no idea you thought likewise, Darcy. I dare say she will suit you very well. The two of you are always debating something or other, and while you confound the rest of the room, you both seem to enjoy the activity." Then, as he pondered the implications a little more, "But this will mean you are related to the Bennets. For all Caroline and Louisa's warnings that the Bennets were beneath me, Miss Bennet will soon be sister to the Darcys and have connections to an Earl. Ha! That will make Caroline choke on her porridge, I have no doubt."

"My engagement is not the main thing I have to tell you, Charles," his friend replied sombrely. "It concerns Miss Bennet."

"If you are here to warn me against your new sister, I do not wish to hear it!" Bingley said, an uncharacteristic flash of anger in his tone.

"Quite the contrary," said Darcy, holding out his hands placatingly. "Quite the contrary."

© 2018


	18. Chapter 18

"What are you saying?" demanded a suddenly alert Bingley.

"When we returned from Hertfordshire," said Darcy, "I told you that I thad not discerned any symptoms of peculiar regard in Miss Bennet and that I believed her sentiments were not engaged. I am here today to tell you that I was quite wrong. I have learned from Miss Elizabeth that her sister did indeed hold you in affection. I deeply regret my interference, Charles. I was utterly and completely mistaken, and should not have thought myself better placed to discern Miss Bennet's feelings than you, who had spent so much more time in her company."

He spent some time elaborating the extent of his regret, but Bingley had stopped listening the moment he heard that Jane Bennet had been attached to him after all. "But so much time has passed!" he cried in distress. "And I left without even taking my leave! She must think me the lowest sort of cad! Dear God!"

"There is still hope, Bingley. Elizabeth believes Miss Bennet would welcome your return to the neighbourhood, although you would of course have to apologise for the nature of your departure from the neighbourhood."

Bingley's eyes lit up in hope, and he said, "I must leave for Netherfield this afternoon. I shall send a note immediately to tell them to prepare the house, but even if it is not ready for visitors, I will not delay. At least I made sure _Caroline_ sent Miss Bennet a letter when we left, so she was not completely abandoned without word of our departure."

Darcy coughed uncomfortably, admitting that there was yet more to tell. "I would not put too much reliance on your sister having sent a kindly note. You remember that she was more strongly opposed to the match than anyone else? I happen to know that Miss Bennet was staying in town this past spring, with Mr Gardiner in fact, and that she called on your sisters and they returned the visit. I understand they cut the acquaintance after that. Fool that I was, I thought it kinder not to tell you, when your sisters seemed determined to keep the news from you."

"You what?" exploded Bingley. "You _knew_ she was in town and _decided_ not to let me know? Who are _you_ to decide what I need to know? Being wrong about Miss Bennet's feelings for me, I can forgive. You were right to advise me to caution, and you acted in the service of a friend, however ill-informed your advice might have been. I grieve for the lost time, and for the hurt that Miss Bennet must have experienced, but I cannot blame you for giving me your honest opinion. After all, you have always extolled _honesty_ above all other virtues." The bitterness in Bingley's tone was clear. "But under what pretence of friendship could you _lie_ to me? I remember like it was yesterday you sitting in the parlour at Netherfield, saying 'Whatever bears affinity to cunning is despicable'! You have always said that disguise of every sort was your abhorrence. By what imagined principle could you justify such deception to yourself? Had you no idea how heartbroken I have been? Are you made of ice, man? Do you think me an infant, that you need to shelter me from the truth? You _lied_ to me, Darcy, and _that_ I find hard to forgive."

"I did not precisely _lie,_ Charles. I merely remained silent," Darcy muttered defensively.

"Don't give me that!" his friend cried. "You connived with my sisters to keep me in ignorance of information you knew would be of the greatest interest to me. It was a lie to carry on as though Miss Bennet had not come calling at my house. Had you no idea how heartbroken I have been? How much I have longed to see her? Are you made of ice, man? Do you think me an infant, that you need to shelter me from the truth?"

Mr Gardiner was pleased to see such evidence of Bingley's continued attachment to Jane, and of his willingness to stand up to his imposing friend. Darcy was less pleased to be hauled over the coals by an angry Bingley, but he acknowledged the justice of it. "You are correct, of course. I should never have interfered, not allowed your sisters to embroil me in their scheme. I am deeply ashamed of my actions, and can only hope that in time you might come to think of me as a friend again. You have my complete and unqualified apology.

"But I must tell you that I have some idea of what you have suffered. I know what it feels like to think you have lost the only woman you might ever love. By God's grace, I have been given a second chance, and so have you. If you still love her, then do not rest until you have discovered for yourself if Miss Bennet's heart is still yours. But do not trust your sisters in this: secure your lady first, and _then_ tell them the news. That will be soon enough to find out if they can reconcile themselves to the match."

"I thank you for your advice, Darcy, but this time I will decide for myself how to act. I _will_ return to Hertfordshire, and I _will_ pursue Miss Bennet's affections, but how I deal with my sisters is a matter for me. I believe I know them best, and can manage my own family."

Darcy bowed his head in acknowledgement. "So be it," he said. "I will happily leave your family to you, and simply say that it would please me greatly if we were to become brothers."

This calmed Bingley's ire, as he contemplated the idea. "Then let us to it, man," he said, with a semblance of his former ebullience showing through.

He turned to Mr Gardiner and politely thanked him for lending his presence to the conversation. "I presume you are standing in for Mr Bennet," he added, unaware that, behind him, Darcy's eyes bulged at the remark.

Mr Gardiner kept better regulation of his features, and calmly replied, "Mr Bennet is even now at my house in Cheapside should you wish to consult him, but my advice is to make for Longbourn with all haste: when you have parted from a lady without taking your leave, there can be no reason for delay in returning to her side. There will be plenty of opportunity to speak to her father once you are sure she can forgive you your past conduct, sir, as Mr Bennet will return home within the week."

At this point Darcy begged use of the desk to pen a brief note of his engagement for the paper, and this was speedily written, sanded, sealed and dispatched with one of Bingley's men for immediate delivery, before the three men, each reconciled to the others' presence in their families in the future, returned to the parlour to find the ladies engaged in polite, if rather stilted, conversation about a ball Caroline Bingley had attended the month before.

Leading the gentlemen back into the parlour, Bingley cast one hard look at his sister before focussing his attention on Mr and Mrs Gardiner, falling into easy conversation about their recent holiday in Derbyshire.

Darcy crossed the room to stand beside Elizabeth's chair. He indulged in the great pleasure of resting a hand on her shoulder, while he asked, "Have you told Miss Bingley our good news, my dear?"

"I have, William," she answered. "In all the land, she was the first to know!" She raised her own hand to rest on his, and Miss Bingley managed to restrain herself from rolling her eyes at their open display of affection.

She seized the opportunity to extend her congratulations again, setting her personal mortification aside to indulge in later. She thought it advisable to retain the right of visiting at Pemberley and claiming the acquaintance of a family of the first circles, so she dropped all outward signs of resentment and paid the new couple every civility it was within her power to bestow. Elizabeth was not deceived into thinking that the lady forgave her for stealing such a great prize from out of her grasp, but she was magnanimous enough not to comment on Caroline's changed conduct towards her, and firmly reminded herself that if Bingley and Jane were reunited, there was every chance that Caroline Bingley would soon be her sister. So she bit her tongue and returned Miss Bingely's civilities in kind.

Darcy watched the interplay between Elizabeth and Miss Bingley with some relief. He was still uneasy about whether his relationship with Bingley could ever be what it was before. Much depended, he knew, on the reaction of Miss Bennet to his friend's return, but Miss Bingley could also play an important part in influencing her brother's attitudes. To know that she had decided on a reconciliation with Elizabeth rather than a campaign of resentment eased his mind considerably. He decided to give her some small compensation for her loss: "Soon we will be the talk of many parlours, I am afraid," he said, assuming a sombre mien. "The announcement will be in tomorrow's Times."

Miss Bingley perked up at this news. Perhaps some good could come of this after all. She might have failed to secure the hand of Mr Darcy, but she _did_ have a very interesting _on dit_ a full day before anyone else. She quickly sketched a plan for visiting as many acquaintances as possible during the afternoon. Unfortunately the polite hour for visiting was over, but she would find excuses. Having such advance knowledge of the engagement of Mr Darcy would prove her intimacy with the Darcy family, an intimacy she was determined to maintain and to benefit from.

With the minds of everyone in the room distracted by a desire to get on with other business, it was not long before the visit concluded, and each went their own way: Bingley reaffirmed his plan to return to Netherfield Park that very afternoon. Caroline begged off the journey, promising to join him in a few days, but saying she could not possibly be ready in time to accompany him today. Bingley was just as pleased to travel alone - being shut in a carriage with Caroline after learning of her part in deceiving him was not the way he wanted to prepare himself to meet Jane Bennet again. As soon as their guests were out the front door, Bingley began commanding his staff to organise his trunks and prepare the carriage. Caroline retired to her rooms to dress for a round of social calls.

Outside, the Gardiner's coach set off at a brisk pace. The older couple were eager to return to their children and business, while Elizabeth and Darcy could no longer delay the inevitable confrontation with Mr Bennet.

© 2018


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

The household at Gracechurch was quiet when they arrived. After breakfast, the inhabitants had dispersed to their daily activities. The children were above stairs with their nanny, who was entertaining the youngest with coloured blocks while the older children worked at their lessons. Lydia and Captain Denny were sitting quietly in the parlour, having bid farewell to Mrs Charlton earlier that morning. She had decided to return to her own family now that her brother's affairs seemed to be in order, and had taken the post coach back to Brighton. The young couple were discussing their marriage plans, both desiring to have the matter concluded quickly so that Denny could return to his duties and his new wife could start her life as Mrs Denny. Mr Bennet took no interest in these matters: now that it was a settled thing that Lydia would marry Captain Denny, his main priority was to avoid any discussion of the arrangements. Instead, he had retreated to his host's study, where he quietly triumphed in the fact that Mr Darcy, for all his protestations of devotion the evening prior, had not bothered to return as promised to hear Mr Bennet's answer to his application for a courtship. It seemed that his ardour had quickly cooled in the face of a little discouragement. Well, good riddance. Things would be that much easier if Elizabeth found herself abandoned by her erstwhile suitor: she was not one to meekly suffer such an insult and still hold the man in affection - not like Jane, who still pined after that Bingley fellow months after he had so rudely left the neighbourhood!

Mr Bennet's reverie was broken by a knock on the study door. His disappointment that Gardiner had returned, probably wanting to reclaim the room, was not enough to dispel his self-congratulation at scaring off the high and mighty Mr Darcy: he called out a cheerful, "Come!" When the door opened, however, it was not Gardiner at all, but that selfsame Mr Darcy, with Elizabeth on his arm. The two entered confidently and took seats in front of the desk without waiting for his invitation to sit.

"Well, then, Lizzy," he quipped, "I see you have managed to find Mr Darcy and drag him here after all." Turning to Darcy, he added, "I suppose you have come for my answer, sir?"

"Not at all," Darcy replied calmly.

At Mr Bennet's quizzically raised eyebrow, he continued: "I no longer have any wish to enter into a _courtship_ with your daughter, sir." He paused for a long moment, watching first confusion and then satisfaction displayed on his future father-in-law's features. Then, enjoying the drama of the moment perhaps a little too much, he explained: "This morning, Elizabeth did me the incomparable honour of agreeing to become my wife, and Mr Gardiner, under whose authority you had placed her, was kind enough to grand his blessing in your stead."

Bennet leapt to his feet and banged his fists on the desk in front of him. "Mr _Gardiner_ gave his blessing? _Mr Gardiner?_ What on earth gives you the impression that it was appropriate to speak to _him_ when the lady's _father_ was available and awaiting your visit? This is a fine bit of mummery, but it will not stand up, sir. I have not consented to any such match, and certainly _will_ not."

Elizabeth placed a calming hand on Darcy's forearm, making sure her betrothed had his temper in hand, before addressing her father in stern tones: "Think carefully before you make any such declaration, sir. I _will_ marry Mr Darcy. I have the consent of the man you had made my guardian when we left the house this morning. Mr Darcy is a man of great influence, and it would be foolhardy indeed to question his honour or to stand in the way of his plans in this matter. An engagement has been entered into and the settlement papers signed. You are legally bound, and it would be scandalous to attempt a breach of contract now.

"Of course, if this became a _public_ scandal, it would damage the reputations of more than just yourself. All your daughters would suffer, but for myself and Lydia who would be safely out of your household. But perhaps that doesn't move you as much as it should? As a father, you have been rather careless of your daughters' futures, after all. But think on _this_ , sir. If you risk my sisters' chances because you are determined to turn away a rich suitor for any one of us, my mother is hardly likely to forgive you quickly, or to leave you in peace in your book room. Not will my husband's lawyers. Nor will your heir, who will not wish to see a breach between his family and the nephew of his patron, the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

"You invite years of pain for yourself and your family if you attempt to deny our engagement, and all for nothing, for I will marry him the day I reach my majority in any case. So think, Papa," deliberately using her old, affectionate title for the first time since their difficult conversation the evening before. "Think carefully. Do not do this."

Mr Bennet had slowly resumed his seat as Elizabeth spoke. "How _can_ there be settlement papers signed? Yesterday he was only speaking about a courtship! You must have planned this all along!"

Darcy was finding it difficult to remain polite in the face of Mr Bennet's sullen opposition to his daughter's wishes, but he drew on all his innate reserve and capacity to mask his inner turmoil, and presented a calm and dignified facade. He knew Elizabeth could feel his tension through her hand, which remained on his arm, and drew some comfort from her spirited defence, but decided it was time to add his support to her arguments.

"Mr Bennet," he said, attempting to infuse his voice with a semblance of respect for the older gentleman, "When I left here yesterday, I admit I was unhappy with your reluctance to grant my request for a courtship, but I understood your _stated_ desire to consult your daughter's feelings before making a decision which could affect her future so greatly. This morning, however, I was greatly disappointed to learn that it was your _own_ feelings you valued above your daughter's. When Elizabeth asked me to meet her at Mr Gardiner's warehouse, I had little idea of being engaged before the morning was over, but you should know, sir, that your daughter is a force to be reckoned with. She gave me to understand that she would welcome a proposal, and far be it from me to refuse her anything that is in my power to bestow. In short, the moment seemed propitious and I proposed. Elizabeth accepted my hand. As it happened, Mr Gardiner had drawn up settlement papers just in case such an event should occur, since he could see the great affection that had developed between Elizabeth and myself while we were in Derbyshire. I was pleased to be able to pledge myself to your daughter in law as well as in my heart, and all that was required was a slight amendment to the sums." At Bennet's raised eyebrow, he added, "Upwards."

Bennet harrumphed. This was all too convenient. "Do you expect me to believe you did not plan this to deliberately avoid seeking my consent?"

"Believe it or not as you like, sir," was Darcy's crisp response. "It is the truth."

Elizabeth spoke up again: " _I_ planned it, Papa. I do not apologise for having done so. You have forfeited my respect by your cruelty in this matter. It is bitter indeed to realise that the parent I have looked up to all my life is a man of such petty ambition, such limited imagination, that he chooses to retreat from the world rather than to extend his care and protection to those around him. So long as you disdain your family, you can expect your family to disdain you, and I am no different from my sisters and my mother in this. You cannot demand to play the father now, when you have made it perfectly clear you have no intention of acting as a father should. By your own words you entrusted me to Uncle Gardiner this morning. And he has proved more worthy of that trust than you have yourself."

Bennet might have been able to absorb this news had it been delivered by his brother-in-law, or even by the young gentleman sitting so calmly before him now, but to be so upbraided by his own daughter - the very daughter he had built all his hopes of future felicity on - it was too much. His face flushed with anger, he uttered words he would soon come to bitterly regret, but which in the moment seemed barely enough to express his outrage: "Begone from my sight, you ungrateful child. You are no daughter of mine! I never wish to set eyes on you again!"

Darcy surged to his feet and towered over the older man. "You are a fool, Mr Bennet," he said, "if you think Elizabeth will be swayed by such conduct as this. I am sorry for her sake that you choose not to mend your ways and learn to become the father she and her sisters deserve. But it is you that will be the poorer for it." Turning to Elizabeth, who had risen to her feet beside him, he gently took her arm. "Come, my love, let us leave this old fool to himself. There are others who will be happier with our news." So saying, he guided her gently from the room.

Elizabeth walked with a straight back and firm resolution until the study door was closed, whereupon she collapsed into Darcy's arms, shaking with the release of tension. "Even as I planned, I hoped that he would change his mind. He is a stubborn old man, and determined to be a lonely old man, for all that he has a large family around him. I might have been banished from his presence, but I will not abandon my sisters and mother, William."

"Nor would I expect you to, my dear. As Mrs Darcy, you will have ample resources to be of great assistance to them. We will visit Hertfordshire regularly, and you may invite them all to Pemberley as often as you wish. I meant it when I told your father he would be the loser by his intransigence, for while your mother and sisters will enjouy visiting our estate, it is Mr Bennet who would have most benefitted from discovering the Pemberley library!" This mild attempt at humour brought a small smile back to his beloved's face, and he was satisfied. "Now, let us join your sister and Captain Denny. Do you think they would agree to a double wedding?"

© 2018


	20. Chapter 20

_**Author's Note:** Apologies for the delay in posting this chapter: RL got in the way again. At least it is a little longer than usual. I appreciate all your reviews, and especially those that pick up my mistakes or speculate on what might happen next. I know you are eagerly awaiting the next meeting between Darcy and Mr Bennet, and this chapter gets you a little closer... elag_

 **Chapter 20**

Captain Denny was indeed favourably inclined towards a double wedding. He was quick to grasp the advantages that would flow from combining his efforts with someone as influential as Fitzwilliam Darcy: Denny had no connections that would assist him in obtaining a special licence. The same could not be said of Mr Darcy. Denny wanted to give his bride the lavish wedding she dreamed of, but his resources were limited. For Darcy, money would be no object. Denny had no regular abode in London which would give him a claim to the services of any particular church. Mr Darcy had a Mayfair townhouse, so would surely be a regular parishioner at a fashionable church.

Lydia was less enthusiastic about the idea - for all her recently exhibition of maturity and wisdom, she was still young enough to place great significance on being the first of her sisters to wed. She wanted to marry in Meryton, so that all her friends and family would see her on the arm of her handsome groom, dressed in full uniform and as handsome as could be. It would spoil the picture to have the tall and disgustingly handsome Mr Darcy casting Denny into the shade.

Luckily, both Denny and Elizabeth knew how to work on her. Elizabeth assured her that she had no great expectations for her own wedding day, and would happily give Lydia pride of place, both as the first to be actually wed, and as easily the most beautiful of the two sisters at the altar. She mentioned in passing that while neither she nor William wanted a fancy affair, they would of course need to invite William's titled relations, and would Lydia mind so very much if they had an Earl and a Countess at the wedding? (Lydia allowed that she would not.) Denny added strategically placed compliments and reassurances that no one could outshine Lydia in his eyes. He happened to mention that sharing the costs of the wedding would give him a little more to spend on her wedding clothes, for the amount allocated by Mr Bennet would hardly cover the cost of the wedding dress itself.

Before long, Lydia was an enthusiastic supporter of the proposition, and all that remained to be settled was the place and the date. To the gentlemen's surprise, Elizabeth sided with Lydia: she wanted to marry from Longbourn, with her sisters at her side.

"Our mother has thought of little for many years now but securing her daughters' futures. She wants nothing more than for us to marry well and marry happy. Her delight on learning that not only her youngest and liveliest daughter, but the one she always despaired of, have received offers from men of proven mettle and are to be married before the month is out, will be immeasurable. I could not deprive her of the opportunity to play her part. I have at least one parent who will be happy to see me wed."

"Whatever do you mean, Lizzy?" asked Lydia. "Is Papa not happy with your betrothal?"

"That is putting it mildly, Lydia. He has huffed and puffed, but he will not blow my house down. I will marry William, and our father will just have to get used to the idea."

"Well," laughed Lydia, "Mama will be your best ally there! She can always wear Papa down eventually." Dismissing the issue, and turning back to the bridegrooms, she inquired how long it took to purchase the licences. "It does sound terribly romantic, to be married by special licence," she mused.

It was soon agreed that licenses should be obtained as soon as possible - and Darcy's connections would indeed be of some use in facilitating the process - and that the entire party should repair to Hertfordshire where they would then be married as soon as possible.

As a result, the ladies would have only a few more days in town in which to complete any purchases they intended to make for their trousseaux. Elizabeth had given little thought to such practicalities, but Lydia had thought of little else, and reminded her sister of the necessity to equip herself with the things she would need to take up her new role in life. "You will at the very least need some new walking dresses and a ball gown or two. I do not imagine your old wardrobe will be quite up to scratch for Mrs Darcy," she teased. Although embarrassed to have the inferiority of her clothes pointed out in front of William, Elizabeth could not fault her sister's accuracy. While she was never fond of shopping, she recognised the necessity in this case, and accepted her fate with relative good grace.

Darcy offered his carriage and footmen to the ladies, explaining that he and Denny would accomplish their own mission with more ease on horseback. Accordingly, they soon parted company, Denny and Darcy heading for Doctors' Commons and Lydia and Elizabeth for their aunt's recommended modiste, where they spent several hours choosing patterns and fabrics and being measured for gowns. Arriving in the Darcy coach, accompanied by three liveried footmen, ensured them respectful treatment at the establishment, and Lydia's cheerful insouciance made the process much less tedious than it might have been. Elizabeth had never spent a pleasanter afternoon at a dressmaker!

By arrangement, they repaired to Darcy House rather than Gracechurch Street when their business was done. Georgiana was delighted to welcome them, and plied them with refreshments while they waited for the gentlemen to return from their mission. When a dusty Darcy and Denny made their way into the parlour shortly thereafter, they found their ladies engaged in light-hearted tales of the trials and tribulations of clothes shopping.

Elizabeth leapt to her feet and rushed to greet Darcy, pausing just short of throwing herself into his arms and remembering to offer him a polite curtsey instead. Darcy's eyes betrayed the pleasure with which he received this little show of enthusiasm, but he likewise restrained himself to a stately bow, followed by a bow to Georgiana and Lydia and a general greeting to the room. Denny was quick to assure Lydia that they had been successful in their objective, and that the licenses should be ready for collection in two days' time.

"When shall we leave for Meryton, brother," asked Georgiana, "and where shall we stay?"

"Oh, you must stay with us at Longbourn," cried Lydia enthusiastically, "for we always have room for another sister, and you know the gentlemen will have to stay elsewhere for propriety's sake, at least until after the wedding." Struck by this thought, she mused, "What a shame Mr Bingley is no longer at Netherfield Park, for I suppose you will have to stay at the inn in Meryton, and it is not very nice."

"As it happens," her sister responded, "a little birdie told me that Mr Bingley was returning to Netherfield Park today or tomorrow at the latest, and I expect he will be vastly pleased to host the two bridegrooms. He has such happy manners, after all, that. I cannot imagine him not wanting to play a part in his friend's future happiness."

"Is he coming back for Jane, do you think?" Lydia wanted to know.

"That is for him and Jane to work out, Lydia. We must not push either of them - it will be difficult enough for them to bear with Mama's assumptions and expectations."

"I suppose so," said the youngest Bennet, "but it would be such fun to help them along."

"Let us focus on our own weddings first," suggested Elizabeth, "and let Jane decide about her own heart."

Elizabeth soon suggested it was time for she, Lydia and Denny to return to Gracechurch Street, but thought it better that Darcy not join them. Darcy was reluctant to be parted from her, especially knowing her father's opposition to their match, but saw the sense in not further provoking that gentleman by his presence. "You will alert me immediately if there is any problem, won't you," he demanded anxiously. Both Elizabeth and Denny - who had a newfound respect for his future brother having spent the last few hours in his company watching him deal confidently with matters of business in which Denny himself would have felt out of his depth - assured him that they would send a messenger if need arose, and that a man as indolent as Mr Bennet was unlikely to take any action beyond railing against his second daughter and his brother-in-law for having out-manoeuvred him. Darcy, simultaneously experiencing bursts of joy at the knowledge Elizabeth was to finally be his, and a pervasive dread that something might yet occur to snatch her from him, stood at his front door watching in the direction she had gone long after the carriage had turned the corner and taken her from view. It took all Georgiana's ingenuity to convince him to come inside before he caught a chill.

The next morning found Darcy visiting his uncle, the Earl of _. Brother to Lady Catherine de Bourgh and to Darcy's own mother, Stanley Fitzwillliam was a gruff man of middle height and expanding girth, used to giving orders and having them followed. He had two sons and two daughters to dispose of in marriage, but always had an eye to potential alliances, be they political or financial, and so took a keen interest in his nephew's and nieces' marital prospects as well. Darcy knew he had to inform the Earl of his betrothal before he learned it from the newspapers, but faced the task with some trepidation. While he loved Elizabeth Bennet to distraction, he did not fool himself into thinking she brought anything to the marriage that his uncle would think of value: her wit, her kindness, her beauty, her intelligence, the fact that she loved Fitzwilliam Darcy for himself and not for his fortune: while these things made Elizabeth irreplaceable in Darcy's life, none of them would improve his uncle's connections, or even register with the Earl as worthy of weighing in the balance.

As a result, Darcy was uncharacteristically nervous as he followed a footman into his uncle's study.

"Mr Darcy," the footman intoned self-importantly.

"Darcy, my lad, this is an unexpected pleasure," boomed his uncle cheerfully. "Take a seat and tell me what you've been up to. I thought you were still in Derbyshire."

"I have only just returned to town, sir," Darcy replied, "and for the very best of reasons. I am to be married."

"Oho! Are you indeed? Who is the lucky lady?" The Earl had such unshakeable confidence that his Darcy nephew would put His duty to family before all else that it never crossed his mind that the answer might disappoint him. Darcy looked into his uncle's benignly smiling countenance as he carefully enunciated, "Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire. She is a wonderful young lady - I am certain you will like her immensely."

"Bennet, you say," mused the Earl in puzzled tones as he wracked his brain to place the name, "of Longbourn? What are her connections?"

"None that you will know, uncle. Her family are not often in town, and do not move in our circles when they are. And before you ask, no, she is not well dowered. It is the lady herself who is of the highest quality, and her attributes and accomplishments which will make her the ideal mistress of Pemberley."

"In other words you are besotted. It is the oldest tale in the world, my boy, and not one that often ends well. Once the shine has worn off your jewel of a bride, you will be left with nothing but an obscure woman with no connections and no money. I had not thought you the sort to fall into such a trap, but I suppose it is a settled thing?"

"It is, uncle. I understand your reservations. Indeed, I expected nothing else. But when you meet Miss Elizabeth I think you will be pleasantly surprised. She is a remarkable young lady, and I know beyond all doubt that she is no fortune hunter. She truly cares for me, and Georgiana loves her. I hope you will come to esteem her, but at the least I ask that you extend her the courtesy she will be due as Mrs Darcy."

"You could have made a famous match, Fitzwilliam. Indeed, everyone expected it of you. You could have enhanced the family name. Instead you choose to let your baser instincts lead you astray. Do you not realise there are other ways to scratch that itch than to marry the chit?"

Darcy sighed. He would take offence on Elizabeth's behalf, but he knew his uncle only spoke the truth as he knew it. The Earl had never met Elizabeth Bennet, but had spent a lifetime in high society, being chased both before and after his own marriage by women more interested in his purse and his power than anything else. Why would he expect Darcy to have fared any better? Still, he could not let the insult pass. "I will thank you to speak with more respect about the lady who will be Mrs Darcy. I understand your thoughts, Uncle, but truly, you are wrong in this case. Miss Elizabeth is the very best of women, and I know for a certainty that she is no fortune hunter. She rejected me once, you know. All my money and connections meant nothing to her in the face of my boorish conduct. I have had to work hard to gain her better opinion, and now that I have it, I would not sacrifice it for the world."

The Earl's eyebrows nearly disappeared under his carefully coiffed fringe. "Oho! So she took you to task for your poor manners, did she? She must have plenty of character to stand up to the famous Darcy scowl. In that case, I absolve her of any fault. But you, my lad: I expected you to have more thought to your family's expectations. Why could you not lose your heart to a lady of money and connections? There are plenty of them out there. But I suppose you are your own man. I suppose you will do as you choose, no matter what I might say about the matter?"

"Indeed I will, Uncle," replied Darcy, with a smile. Clearly the Earl was not inclined to make this more difficult than it need be. "Can I count on your support?"

"You can. I and mine will show your wife all proper courtesy. I will not have this give rise to rumours of any divisions within the family. When do you plan to introduce her to us? I admit I am curious to meet Miss Bennet."

"If you wish to meet Miss Bennet as well, I would be honoured to introduce you to my lady's older sister, but Miss Elizabeth is the second daughter of five. But introductions to any of them will have to wait for a few days yet, I think. Miss Elizabeth is returning to Hertfordshire soon to prepare for our wedding. We plan to marry in her home parish by special licence before the month is out. I hope you and my aunt will be able to make the journey for the wedding - it is but half a day's travel. We have not set the precise date yet, so could make allowance for your availability."

"You don't do things by halves, do you Darcy? You not only want me to accept an unknown woman of no standing into the family, but want me to travel half way across the country to attend the wedding!"

"Not so far as that, uncle," said Darcy, with relief. He could tell by the Earl's tone of frustrated humour that the battle was won, and he would be able to promise Mrs Bennet and the future Mrs Denny an earl at the wedding. For himself, he was vastly relieved to know his marriage would not cause a rift in the family. Oh, there would be a kerfuffle when Aunt Catherine heard the news, but with the Earl's public support for the match, Elizabeth Darcy would be accepted as a member of the Fitzwilliam family, and he and Georgiana would not be estranged from their rather small collection of relatives.

"Are there any dates toward the end of next week that would be impossible for you to attend?" he asked, a twinkle in his eye.

"Why such unseemly haste? If it was one of my sons, I would assume the lady was enceinte, but I know you would never get yourself into such a pickle!"

"Indeed not!' huffed Darcy in pretended outrage. "It is simply that we have endured a number of obstacles to our courtship, and are now keen to start our married life without further delay."

"There is more to the tale than you are telling, but I suppose it will wait for some cold evening in Derbyshire over a bottle of your excellent port. If you can avoid next Thursday or Friday, we should be able to make the supreme effort of attending a wedding in Hertfordshire. Thursday night is Lady Ingleton's ball, and I don't think we'll be in any shape to travel on the Friday. Send me the details as soon as they are fixed and I'll do my best to drag a Viscount along as well. That should please her bevy of sisters!"

Darcy laughed, partly at his Uncle's sense of humour and partly in relief. He had anticipated several hours of being reprimanded for his choice before the Earl reconciled himself to the inevitable, but the conversation had been far less difficult than he expected. In fact, his uncle had long since recognised Darcy's strength of character and independence, and was simply grateful that he was at least marrying a gentlewoman, and had not turned up on his doorstep to announce he was engaged to a bookseller's daughter or the pretty daughter of some indigent Catholic nobleman whose family had lost all their property during the Civil War! "Well, be off with you, then. I am sure you have plenty to do if you are to marry next week. You may introduce your young lady and her family to us when the opportunity arises, and you need have no fear that we will refuse the acquaintance."

"I thank you, my lord. I will advise you of the wedding details as soon as they are fixed. Until next week, then." Darcy's parting bow was deep and sincere. Underneath his own reserve and his uncle's gruff geniality was a genuine affection that both men found difficult to express, but felt deeply.

© 2018


	21. Chapter 21

As the Earl's front door closed behind him, Darcy set off with a spring in his step. He had walked the short distance from Darcy House to the Fitzwilliams' grand establishment, and was about to hail a hackney cab to take him directly to Gracechurch Street when he was accosted by a somewhat breathless messenger boy. He recognised the lad as the boy who had brought him the missive from Elizabeth the day before, and waited impatiently for him to recover his composure sufficiently to proffer today's communication.

"What is it, lad? Is something amiss?" he asked as he took the boy's shoulders in his hands to help him regain his balance.

"Miss Lizbeth said to tell you not to worry, sir, but to give his you this as soon as I could get it to you. She was in a terrible hurry, what with packing and everything."

Packing? Darcy took the note and tore it open. It was direct and to the point:

 _William,_

 _Mr Bennet has outdone himself in petty resentment against our engagement. With uncharacteristic decisiveness, he is sending me home to Longbourn today. By the time this message reaches you, I will be on my way._

 _Please do not be distressed. I am safe and in danger of nothing worse than missing you. If it is any comfort, he sent Lydia home with me, and he will not soon hear the end of her complaints about being denied the chance of further shopping in town._

 _I expect you will want to follow us as soon as you can manage, but do not let Mr Bennet's petulance rush you. Make sure everything is in place so that you and Georgiana are free to enjoy your time in Hertfordshire when you arrive. Of course, if you were to collect our items from the modiste when they are ready, and deliver them to Longbourn, you would win my mother's gratitude for life. Mrs Gardiner will be able to give you the direction._

 _I am so very impatient to see you again, and even more so for our wedding. But I will bear it as best I can, secure in the knowledge that you will follow me soon._

 _With all my heart, yours, EB"_

"Damn and blast!" cried Darcy in frustration, to the wide-eyed surprise of the young messenger: he hadn't thought the quality swore like that, but it seemed plenty of money and regular meals were not enough to cure men of bad tempers. He was even more surprised, though, when the imposing gentleman waved down a hackney cab and instructed him - a lowly messenger boy - to join him in it for a ride back to Gracechurch Street. "I must go there immediately," the gentleman explained brusquely, "and it would be churlish to make you walk home when I can so easily give you a lift. Get in, boy. We have no time to waste."

So focussed was he on reaching his destination, and what he might find there, that Darcy paid scant attention to his travelling companion. The boy sat quietly enough, watching all the activity of the city streets through which they passed. As they approached the half way point of their journey, however, his lips compressed, a frown marred his brow and a deep sigh escaped him. Distracted despite himself, Darcy prompted, "Out with it, lad. What worries you?"

Startled eyes flashed, and a blush stained the boy's cheeks. " 'Tis nothing, sir," he prevaricated, entirely unconvincingly.

"If I can be of any assistance in your troubles, you must tell me," said Darcy, with a disconcerting mix of sympathy and authority. Unused to dealing with men of such wealth, and remembering the speed with which the gentleman had earlier displayed his temper, the lad decided it was safer to tell the truth than to test Mr Darcy's humour further: "I have a sister who works in a house near here, sir. I barely see her from one month to the next, as our days off fall on different days. I had hoped to visit her on my way home ... if I had been afoot I could have spared ten minutes and not been missed. Now it will have to wait for another time. That is all, sir. Nothing of importance."

"I disagree." Darcy noted the spark of fear in the boy's countenance at his response, so hurried to add, "there is nothing more important to a young man than to care for his sisters." He rapped sharply on the roof of the cab to bring it to a halt. "If I let you out here, you can still visit your sister, and since no-one will know you did not walk the whole way, I dare say you can spend a little longer with her, if her duties allow, before you return to Gracechurch Street."

Darcy smiled at the look of relief and happiness that his young companion bore. "Now, be off with you," he said. As the lad jumped from their conveyance and turned to pull his forelock in thanks, Darcy asked him his name. "Frank. Frank Tyler," he said, and then was off at a run. Darcy asked the driver to press on to the Gardiners' residence, reminded that the problems he now faced were as nothing compared to the lives of so many: if he had missed Elizabeth's departure, it meant nothing more than a few days' delay in seeing her again. If he met further opposition from Mr Bennet, he had both the means and the influence to prevail. He was his own master. His sister shared his house and he could see her whenever he wished. His beloved had accepted his suit and would be his wife before the month was out. Indeed, he lived a charmed life, when seen through the eyes of a Frank Tyler.

By the time the cab delivered him to Mr Gardiner's door, Darcy had replaced his earlier almost panicked anxiety with a calm determination. He was able to smile at the butler and hand off his hat and coat with commendable aplomb before enquiring after Miss Elizabeth and, on learning she had left for Hertfordshire a half hour before, requesting an audience with Mr Bennet. He was again shown into Mr Gardiner's study, where his future father-in-law sat behind the desk, apparently too absorbed in the newspaper to look up. Darcy waved away the butler before he was announced, and simply stepped quietly into the room, took a seat, and waited.

After a minute or two of hoping his visitor would be the first to speak, Mr Bennet closed his paper and looked up. "Good morning, Mr Darcy," he said, receiving a silent but perfectly polite nod in reply. "I see you have had the effrontery to announce your engagement to Elizabeth in the paper. Do not think such stratagems will succeed, sir. My daughter has returned to her home. She did not wish to spend longer in your irksome company, and _begged_ me to allow her to accompany Jane to Longbourn as a means to escape your near-constant presence in this house. In her own place, away from the pressure of your attendance, Elizabeth will have the time she needs to reflect on her future, and I have no doubt she will do the sensible thing and renounce this so-called engagement. It is you, Mr Darcy, who will end up with egg on your face." Mr Bennet's anger was apparent: his words exploded from him with a venomous rapidity, and his hands grasped the arms of his chair with white-knuckled force. It only heightened his anger to see that Darcy remained calm and relaxed in the face of his vitriol. Provoked by that man's continued silence, he demanded, "Why do you not abandon this nonsense and leave my daughter alone?"

"First, because I love her. Second," and Darcy ticked points off against his fingers as he spoke, "because she wishes to marry me. Third, because I have signed settlement papers and announced our engagement to the world, and I _am_ a man of honour: I am bound by my word. Fourth, because there is not a woman in England who would make a better mistress of Pemberley. Fifth, because I will not do anything to disappoint Elizabeth or betray her trust in me. And last, sir, because I love her."

Mr Bennet huffed dismissively, and picked up his paper. He clearly thought the conversation to be at an end. Before he could resume reading, however, Darcy spoke again, this time in a more conciliatory tone: "Mr Bennet, I have some advice for you. You can do nothing to persuade either myself or Elizabeth against this marriage. We have been through too much, suffered sufficient delays and misunderstandings that we are now resolved to be completely honest with each other, and we are both secure in the knowledge of our mutual affections. There is no point in trying to convince us otherwise, and no point in your continued railing against the inevitable.

"You have deeply hurt Elizabeth by your actions in this matter. Instead of caring for her as a father should, you have shown the depth of your own selfishness, causing her to question the love and respect she had for you. She is no fool, Mr Bennet. You raised her to be an acute judge of character. It can come as no surprise that she has found your character wanting this week. I do not suggest that it will be easy for you to regain her affection after such a betrayal, but you would be a fool not to _try_. Your daughter loved you dearly, Mr Bennet, before you hurt her so deeply. She might in time remember that love if you cease this absurd opposition to her marriage and begin to mend your bridges. In time it might be possible for her to forgive you so far as to allow you into the company of your grandchildren, to engage you again in a game of chess, or to invite you to visit Pemberley, with its extensive library. For your sake, I care not. But for Elizabeth's, I urge you to reconsider your current path.

"Do not lose your daughter for the sake of a moment's pique, sir."

Stung to be the subject of this hated man's sympathy, Thomas Bennet slammed his hands on the desk in front of him, shouting, "She is an ungrateful fool, and you, _sir_ , are an idiot to take her. Curse her, and curse you, too! I hope she makes your life a misery, but no matter how quickly she regrets this foolishness, I will not take her back. She has made her choice and now must live with it. I never wish to see her again, and certainly have no interest in whatever spawn you may beget on her!" A thread of spittle flew from his lips to land on Darcy's cheek.

Darcy calmly wiped it off with his handkerchief, saying, "You have said quite enough, sir. I understand you completely. I take no leave of you. It is clear you wish for my absence, and in this instance I am happy to grant your wish."

With that, Darcy took his leave, not waiting for any reply from Mr Bennet. He went to find Mrs Gardiner and enquire of her whether she had any message or parcels to convey to Longbourn. She did not, as she had sent her greetings with her nieces only that morning, but she took the opportunity to wish him well, and reassure him that not _all_ of Elizabeth's relatives were opposed to the match. Somewhat mollified by her sympathetic smile, Darcy left the house with a determined stride. He had business to complete in London, and licences to collect, but nothing would prevent him from following Elizabeth to Hertfordshire at the earliest opportunity.

© 2018


	22. Chapter 22

Elizabeth and Lydia's unexpected arrival at Longbourn was taken in stride by the lady of the house. She had never been appraised of the initial fears for Lydia's safety, and while the sisters in London had written to Jane to tell her all was well, Lydia insisted on being the one to announce her own engagement, so they arrived without raising any prior suspicion that they carried such momentous news. Luckily for her ambitions, in Mr Bennet's absence, no-one at Longbourn had thought to request the newspapers, and the announcement in the Times (which mentioned both betrothals) had not stolen Lydia's thunder.

Mrs Bennet, alerted by the approach of a carriage, was waiting on the doorstep to greet her daughters as they alighted from the carriage. Jane and Mary were not far behind her, each stepping forward to hug their sisters and welcome them home. Kitty had gone to Lucas Lodge to visit Maria Lucas, and was not expected home until later in the day. Mrs Bennet's effusions over Lydia's return were all that might be expected: she interspersed frequents questions about Brighton, the regiment and the joys of travelling with snippets of local gossip, leaving no opening for the subject of her attentions to get a word in. As the girls were ushered into the front parlour and Mrs Hill summoned to provide refreshments, Lydia and Elizabeth exchanged a conspiratorial look. "You must tell her soon, Lydia," whispered Elizabeth. "She will never forgive you if you keep her waiting." "I know," the younger sister replied, "but I want the moment to be right."

Jane watched this exchange with undisguised curiosity: Lizzie and Lydia had never been confidants in the past, and Jane could not recall the last time Lydia had whispered rather than loudly demanding the centre of attention. Exercising all her skill as the favourite child and bringer of calm, she urged her mother to pour the tea, while she asked, "Well, Lydia and Lizzie, what news do you bring from our Uncle's house in London?"

She was not surprised to see Lydia seize the opportunity she had given her: With more of her usual rambunctiousness, Lydia struck a dramatic pose and held out her left hand, which bore a pretty ring given to her by Captain Denny on the occasion of her engagement. "I am to be married, Mama," she cried, letting out an excited squeal. This was matched by their mother, who barely managed to return the teapot to a safe perch on the tray in front of her before she leapt to her feet and rushed to take Lydia by the hands, pulling her to her feet and into a tight hug, before twirling her about the room in joy.

"Married, and at sixteen! What a clever girl you are. Who is the lucky man? Did you dance with him at a ball? Is he an officer? Do tell me he is in regimentals! When will he visit? Has he spoken to your father yet? Oh, I shall go distracted! You must tell me everything." Eventually calming enough to allow Lydia to tell her tale, Mrs Bennet sat spellbound while the story of Wickham's dastardly schemes and Captain Denny's valiant support and devoted affection was unfolded. Elizabeth sat quietly and watched her sister, whose story needed little embellishment to be quite as shocking and romantic as Lydia could wish. Mrs Bennet interjected the occasional exclamation of shock, outrage or delight, concluding that Lydia was the cleverest of her daughters, for she had not only outwitted a scoundrel, but secured the love and the hand of an honourable officer. Eventually it struck her that Captain. Denny's regiment had settled for the time being at Brighton, and that her dear Lydia might not see much of her betrothed for months - perhaps years. "Oh, you need not worry about that, Mama," offered her youngest child, "for I shall be marrying him before the month is out. We will return to Brighton directly after the wedding. What a lark it will be tor return a married lady!"

"So soon?" cried her mother. "Surely it is not possible! We have. not even had the banns read yet, and I cannot possibly prepare all that is needed in such a short time."

"La! We need nothing but our family and friends around us, and a rather fine wedding breakfast. We have already ordered our trousseaux, and the gentlemen will deliver them in time. I am sure that with Mr Darcy's help, everything will be made easy."

Mrs Bennet was too shocked by the prospect of organising a wedding in so short a time that she did not notice her daughter had spoken in the plural. Mention of Mr Darcy, however, brought her up short. "Mr Darcy?" she asked in confusion, "Whatever does _that_ man have to do with things?"

"Well," began Lydia, but Elizabeth gave her a sharp poke in the ribs, saying, "I think this is my part of the story, Lyddie. You must let me have my share."

"Oh, very well," said Lydia, with mock disappointment, and Elizabeth smiled in affectionate amusement before turning to her mother and holding out her own left hand.

"It will be a double wedding, Mama. Mr Darcy proposed and I have accepted him. He is quite as insistent as Captain Denny on a quick wedding, and the two grooms will be travelling here together as soon as they have purchased the necessary licenses."

Mrs Bennet's eyes bulged as she stared in amazement at the ring sparkling on her second daughter's finger. "Mr Darcy?" she gasped, "The same Mr Darcy who ...? But ..."

Elizabeth could see that a cascade of difficult questions and mortifying remarks was about to spill from her mother, so hurried to say, "Just imagine how everyone will envy the Bennet family - two daughters married on the same day by special license! It will be the talk of the district!" This prospect sufficiently distracted Mrs Bennet that she returned to celebrating the good news of the betrothals and learned to think of the rushed preparations as an unavoidable necessity. That _both_ her daughters had returned from their travels betrothed was something marvellous. Indeed, she had often despaired of Elizabeth ever finding someone willing to marry her. That it was that haughty man from Derbyshire was surprising, to be sure - she had been certain Lizzy hated the man, and that girl was never one of put common sense before her own opinions - but she was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Before much longer, Lydia and Elizabeth had retired to their rooms to refresh themselves after their journey, Kitty had returned, learned the news and, after wishing Elizabeth a rather perfunctory and slightly bemused congratulation, had followed Lydia to their room to hear the full story from her favourite sister. Jane, who had sat in silent amazement at the news of both betrothals, followed Elizabeth to her room and sat on the bed watching her sister unpack her trunk.

"Are you _sure_ , Lizzy?" she asked. "I know how much you disliked him when you knew him in Hertfordshire, Do you think you can learn to love him? I would rather you do _anything_ than marry without love."

"Dear Jane," said Elizabeth warmly, hurrying over to sit beside her sister and lean her head against her shoulder, "I _do_ love him. I love him very much. And he has told me that he loves me, too."

"Well of course he does, silly," chuckled Jane, reassured by Elizabeth's tone as much as by her words. "Anyone could see that! He couldn't take his eyes off you. You were the only one outside his own party he danced with at Mr Bingley's ball. He followed you around at Lucas Lodge trying to look inconspicuous, but I dare say it is a little difficult to be inconspicuous when you are so very tall and handsome. The _gentleman's_ feelings were never in doubt. But tell me, when did _you_ begin to like _him_?"

"I can hardly say. It has been coming on so gradually I was in the middle before I knew I had begun. But I suppose I have to date it from first seeing his lovely grounds at Pemberley."

This earned her a blow from a pillow and she and Jane collapsed on the bed in giggles. Eventually Elizabeth recovered her composure sufficiently to unfold the whole story to her most beloved sister, who listened to everything with that perfect sympathy and undaunted expectation of finding the good in others which made Jane who she was.

When Elizabeth found herself repeating for the third time how much she enjoyed time in the company of her betrothed, she recalled her manners and thought to ask Jane for her news. Given that Jane had had the thankless task of maintaining their mother's spirits at home while Lydia had followed the regiment to Brighton and Elizabeth had travelled with the Gardiners, and then had guarded the secret of Lydia's reported elopement while Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet had travelled to London in pursuit, Elizabeth did not expect Jame to have much to tell, but she was ready to lend her hear to whatever neighbourhood gossip or household news there was. Imagine her surprise, then, to find that Jane had news of some considerable import: Mr Bingley had returned to Netherfield Park, and was expected to join the Bennet's for a family dinner the next evening.

Jane, of course, was reluctant to read anything into the gentleman's return to the neighbourhood. Indeed, now that she knew of Elizabeth's imminent wedding, she spent some effort in presuming that Mr Bingley had come to attend his friend's wedding. "I _was_ embarrassed when we first met, Lizzy," she admitted. He came to call on Papa, but finding him out, sat for some time with the ladies in the front parlour. Mama was her usual self, and dropped some very heavy hints about me, but Mr Bingley did not seem perturbed. He was perfectly polite, and accepted an invitation to dinner before he left. Now that the first meeting is out of the way, I am at my ease. I am sure we can now meet as indifferent acquaintances."

"I look forward to seeing him for myself," Lizzy commented, unwilling to raise Jane's hopes by describing what she had seen of Bingley's continued attachment during her time in London, "and I will try to distract Mama so that you and Mr Bingley might be able to talk without raising her expectations. But I will be very surprised if we do not find he is just as likely to be in love with you as he ever was."

"You mustn't tease me," cried Jane in some distress. "I do so dread to be the subject of speculation. You know I would be very happy to win his heart, but i will not do anything to give rise to gossip about him or about me. I do not expect a renewal of his addresses, for he has been gone for so long, without a word from him or his sisters. He did not visit me when I was in London. It seems unlikely his movements now are anything to do with me. Please do not try to raise my hopes."

Elizabeth acquiesced, reassuring her sister that she would let her find out Mr Bingley's intentions for herself. With only a little more discussion of the upcoming wedding, she and Jane were soon asleep.

Mrs Bennet was not a woman of much intelligence, and her capacity for invention certainly did not stretch so far as imagining that Mr Bennet might ever disapprove of anything that came in the form of a suitor for one of his daughters. As for herself, she had despaired of ever finding someone to take her second daughter off her hands. Elizabeth was headstrong, opinionated, and too smart by half to be of interest to a gentleman looking for a meek and affectionate wife. It was astounding that someone of the standing of Mr Darcy, who had shown himself to be austere and unsociable, would choose her Lizzy, but Mrs Bennet was not one to question good fortune, and whatever it was that Lizzy had done to secure his interest, she could only be thankful for it. Of course, she also had Lydia's good fortune to think of. Her youngest and liveliest daughter - the one who most reminded her of herself - was also to be wed in a matter of days. If she didn't have so much to do, Mrs. Bennet was quite sure she would go distracted!

When Mrs Bennet arose the next morning, she launched herself into wedding preparations with a determination and enthusiasm for detail that quickly reminded Elizabeth why she found her mother's attention difficult to endure. To now be the focus of her mother's attention stretched her endurance to its limits. True, Lydia was delighted to partake in the planning and thus to take more than her share of the conversation, but Elizabeth could not escape discussions about invitations, decorations, menus, dresses and lace. If the wedding was not so very soon, Elizabeth Bennet was quite sure she would go distracted!

It was not long before the neighbourhood began to visit. The newspaper announcement that had gone unnoticed in the Bennet household had been read with avid interest by Sir William Lucas, Mrs Golding, Mrs Long and several others. When news spread that the ladies in question had returned to Longbourn, it became imperative to call and extend congratulations, and perchance to garner some intelligence about how such unexpected betrothals came about. Thus the little time that Elizabeth and Lydia had free of their mother's demands was spent in polite conversation with elderly neighbours. Only their aunt, Mrs Philips, was crude enough to openly speculate that the short engagement period resulted from the Bennet girls having anticipated their vows, but clearly others shared an avid curiosity about the timing. Having anticipated this question, Elizabeth and Lydia had prepared their version of events during their carriage ride home. Both admitted to longstanding secret engagements with gentlemen they had known for many months - since the militia was billeted in Meriton and since Mr Darcy was resident at Netherfield Park - and related with clear indications of regret that each of their future husbands was so pressed by matters of business - the one in following his regiment and the other in managing his estate - that they had insisted on the shortest possible wait once Mr Bennet's consent had finally been secured. For neighbours who knew of Thomas Bennet's general indolence, it was entirely credible that eager young suitors might have been frustrated by his delays and become impatient to remove their brides from his supervision. It did not go unnoticed nor unremarked that the father of the brides had not yet bothered to return from London. Presumably he would arrive in time to walk his daughters down the aisle.


	23. Chapter 23

By the time the residents of Longbourn prepared for dinner, it seemed they had received a visit from everyone of note in the neighbourhood, as well as seeing a parade of tenants, merchants and others finding some reason or other to call on the estate. Luckily, most of the latter were intercepted by Mrs Hill, who ensured they were given such gossip as was to be had and speedily sent on their ways without bothering the family. It was with a sense of great relief that they sat down to a table with only themselves and the ever-genial Mr Bingley, who had arrived from Netherfield at a proper hour and not one minute too early.

Jane was too conscious to say much in that gentleman's presence, and Elizabeth was glad for a reprieve from the need to entertain with stories of her engagement to his illustrious friend from Derbyshire, for Bingley was the only person in the neighbourhood to have advance knowledge of that event. Lydia and Mrs Bennet, however, saw no cause to suspend the gloating over their good fortune that had characterised the rest of the day.

"Mr Bingley, you are most welcome," cried Mrs Bennet on his arrival. "You find us all a-flutter, for we have such news!"

"Indeed, Madam," replied he with all good humour, "I am all ears. But first, perhaps I could greet your lovely daughters and divest myself of my hat?" He actually winked at Mrs Bennet as he said this, and she preened with pleasure at being teased by a young man she was sure she would one day call son. Bingley turned to bow politely to Kitty, Mary, Lydia and Elizabeth before his eyes came to rest on Jane, where they stayed for a long moment before he bowed deeply and raised her had to his lips, saying, "Miss Bennet, is _very_ good to see you again so soon."

Delighted by the flustered blush that stained Jane's cheeks at his forwardness, Bingley then turned back to Mrs Bennet and prompted in excited tones, "Now, you _must_ tell me your news!"

"Oh, sir," she gushed, "It is news of the very best sort. My Lydia and my Lizzy have both come home from London ..."

"I can see that, madam, for they stand here beside you," interrupted Bingley, a teasing glint in his eye.

"Well, yes," said the matron, somewhat confused by the interruption, but not to be diverted from her revelation, "but the thing is, you see, they have both come home _engaged to be married!_ "

Having had his fun, Bingley was too kind-hearted to disappoint Mrs Bennet by revealing he had known of the engagements before he left London, and instead happily listened while both Mrs Bennet and Lydia explained all the particulars and insisted he must attend the wedding. "A _double wedding_ , Mr Bingley. Can you imagine?"

Bingley answered when called upon and generally kept the conversation going through much of dinner, occasionally exchanging a roll of the eyes with Elizabeth or a gentle smile with Jane. Little effort was needed, as Mrs Bennet and her youngest daughter were perfectly happy to carry the conversation. As he was the only gentleman present, there was no separation after dinner. It was still early and a pleasant evening beckoned, so he suggested a stroll in the gardens, to which Jane and Elizabeth quickly agreed. Mrs Bennet, however, proclaimed that with less than two weeks before the wedding, she would need Elizabeth and Lydia to attend her instead. Mary and Kitty might go, she declared, since no-one would miss them. Mary begged off, preferring her book to walking, and so Bingley and Jane were accompanied by Kitty, and set off directly.

Elizabeth reluctantly attended her mother, thoroughly convinced that she was not needed in planning a wedding that Mrs Bennet and Lydia were more than capable of devising, and certain that her own views and wishes, should she be reckless enough to express them, would be disregarded in any case. She would much prefer to be outside, enjoying the evening and watching the interactions between Bingley and Jane. But she swallowed her rebellious thoughts and sat politely, listening to her mother's plans and occasionally murmuring her agreement to some detail or other. After all, Mrs Bennet lived for the day her daughters married, and she had been given less than a fortnight to organise a double wedding, including that of her favourite child. Elizabeth reminded herself that it would soon be over, and her own boredom was a small price to pay for her mother's happiness. And despite all her mother's fussing and fluttering and mentions of her nerves, it was reassuring to have at least one parent who was unequivocally in favour of her match.

Outside, Kitty proved a much less observant chaperone than Elizabeth might have. Jane and Bingley were left largely to themselves after Kitty planted herself firmly on a garden bench, declaring that she had only come outside to get away from all the talk of weddings, and had no inclination to walk. She waved her companions on, and they were happy to oblige. Bingley offered Jane his arm, and they strolled gently around the rose garden. If it was Jane or Bingley that bent their steps towards the pretty little wilderness off to the side of the house, it was impossible to know, but somehow their meanderings led them to a secluded bower overarched by climbing roses and surrounded by a profusion of cheerful flowers.

Until this point, they had each been silent, apart from occasional inconsequential comments on the garden and the mildness of the evening. Both were acutely conscious of the presence of the other, but uncertain how to begin a conversation without causing offence or hurt. Finding themselves with the privacy each had hoped for, they now both spoke at once:

"Mr Bingley, I ..." began Jane, but stopped when she heard him say, "Miss Bennet ... Jane ... please tell me it is not too late."

Unable to speak, Jane nevertheless managed to raise her eyes to his, and to take his hand and pull him to join her on the seat nestled in the bower. This was sufficient encouragement for Bingley to continue, and his professions of affection were most happily received and returned in equal measure. It was difficult for Jane to speak of her inmost feelings, but in this instance, there was sufficient motivation, and when Bingley declared his love, she was able to assure him that she had loved him from the evening they first met.

"I had thought," said Jane when their mutual affection had been established, "that when you left Netherfield last year I had mistaken your feelings. I believed you left to distance yourself from me and avoid giving rise to expectations. I grieved your loss, but respected you for your delicacy towards me. You never said anything to lead me to hope that your feelings matched my own, and I could not blame you for my own disappointment. But I _had_ thought you showed some preference for me. I _had_ allowed myself to fall in love."

"You were not wrong," assured Bingley. I _did_ feel a great affection for you - indeed, I was on the verge of proposing when Darcy and my sisters urged that I take some time to consider. I _did_ have business that took me to town, but what _kept_ me there was their conviction that your feelings did not match my own - that were I to propose, your mother would give you no choice but to accept, and you might find yourself trapped in a marriage you did not want. While being married to you was all I wanted, I loved you too well to place my own happiness above yours. And so I stayed away. What a fool you must think me!"

"Not that," said Jane. "Never that. You may have been badly advised, and I might wish that you had trusted more to your own feelings in the matter than to the observations of others, but you acted for the best of reasons. I honour you for your forbearance."

"You are too good!" cried Bingley. "I do not deserve your forgiveness, but it seems I will have it nevertheless. I have always said you were an angel! I cannot bear to be parted from you again. I wish to always have you by my side. Miss Bennet, Jane, beloved, will you do me the great honour of accepting my hand in marriage?"

"Yes," said Jane, tears of happiness in her eyes, "yes, a thousand times yes. I thought you would never ask!"

After so long believing the other did not care for them - languishing in the misery of a broken heart with no hope of remedy - to be so suddenly thrown into the raptures or requited love was overwhelming. The seclusion of their location lent itself to an ardent expression of their mutual affections, and it was some time before they recalled the need to return to the house.

Standing with Jane Bennet in his arms, her head resting against his shoulder and the taste of her lips still on his own, Bingley raised her chin until their eyes met. "My dearest heart," he said, "how soon do you think we could marry? We have waited so long already."

"I see no need to delay," said Jane with feeling. "If only you had procured a license at the same time as Mr Darcy and Captain Denny, we could have a triple wedding."

Although this last was said in jest, Bingley took it quite seriously. "But I have a license," he said. "I purchased it last year, when I was first planning to propose. If you truly wish it, we _could_ have a triple wedding."

Jane laughed in delight. Only a few days earlier she had reconciled herself to never seeing Mr Bingley again. Now he was back, had proposed in the most romantic terms, and wanted to marry her before the fortnight was out! She could barely believe it was not a dream, but her own imagination could not have conjured up the delight of kissing her beloved. It must be real! "Charles, my love," she said, bringing a brilliant smile to his face, I can think of nothing that would please me more than to marry with Elizabeth at my side. Let us go in and break the news to the others."

Holding hands, they did just that.

© 2018


	24. Chapter 24

_**Author's note:** Apologies for the unusual delay in posting this update. This story started as a one-shot and then a two-shot, and only turned into a longer story in response to reader demand. As a result, I have set out without a firm story line in mind from the outset. The out of character Mr Bennet has taken me down an unexpected path, and it has taken a while to work out where to go next. Thank you for all the reviews and encouragement to continue. I will definitely finish this story, and hope you will stick with it. We are definitely in the home stretch now. elag_

 **Chapter 24**

News of Jane's engagement to Charles Bingley was greeted with joy by her sisters, and with delirious delight by her mother. Mrs Bennet's effusions could not be restrained for nigh on an hour: she had much to say on the merits of Mr Bingley, how she had always known it would be so, that her Jane was not so beautiful for nothing, and how delightful it would be to have her eldest daughter settled at Netherfield Park.

Eventually, Jane managed to calm her sufficiently to break the second half of her news - that she and Bingley intended to marry the following week, in a joint ceremony with Elizabeth and Lydia. Mrs Bennet was at first horrified to be deprived of yet another opportunity to revel in all the glory of a long engagement period, but between Jane's serene insistence on her plans, Bingley's flattery about his future mother's fame as a hostess, and how he could trust no-one else with such a task but was confident _she_ would rise to the challenge, and Lydia's excited observation that a _triple_ wedding would be quite the most exciting thing that had ever happened in Meryton, she was at last reconciled to the idea.

Her mind turned to the necessary plans, and she realised that while she _could_ accomplish the invitations, decorations, wedding breakfasts and provision of accommodation for visiting relatives in time, she needed Mr Bennet to release some funds to ensure the necessary purchases could be made. As well as engaging Meryton's dressmaker to provide Jane with her wedding clothes and refresh gowns for Mary, Kitty and herself, she would have to lay out considerable expenditure with a variety of merchants to ensure sufficient provisions at such short notice for an event which was sure to be talked of for years to come. While some could be done on credit, she would feel more comfortable with her husband's authority for the expense. She quickly penned a note to Mr Bennet, informing him that there were now to be _three_ of his daughters married the following week, and insisting on his prompt return from town.

That gentleman was shocked to receive such a missive. He had blessed Lydia's engagement, but washed his hands of the ungrateful Elizabeth, bundling her off to Longbourn to give her time to reconsider her future. The return to her own place should have reminded her of the gap between herself and the high and mighty Mr Darcy, and of the simple pleasures of a quiet life at home. He had no idea that she would proceed with her foolish plan to marry. Now to learn that she was not only unrepentant, but planned to marry within a fortnight, horrified him. He determined to rush home, not to satisfy his wife's foolish enthusiasm for weddings, but to discover how he could act to prevent Elizabeth's marriage. Surely there was something that could be done. He would speak to his brother Phillips, the solicitor. He would speak to the vicar. Someone would know how to stop this travesty of a marriage. Thomas Bennet informed Mr Gardiner that he was returning to Longbourn, and despite his usually indolent manner, was packed and on the road in less than an hour. His hosts were not sorry to see the back of him.

By the same mail, Mr and Mrs Gardiner had received a letter from Lizzy, sharing Jane's good news and inviting them to attend the wedding, now planned for Saturday week. Having seen the thundercloud on Mr Bennet's face, they sent an answer by express, both accepting the invitation with pleasure, and alerting Lizzy to the imminent arrival of her father.

Thus the evening of her second day at home saw the arrival of Mr Bennet. Never a good traveller he was most seriously put out to have had to travel in haste due to his daughter's stubborn refusal to understand what was best for her, only to find that instead of waiting for him at home, his family were dining at Lucas Lodge, and would not be home until late.

Indeed, the invitation had been very much a last-minute affair: on receiving the Gardiners' message, Elizabeth had persuaded Maria Lucas to suggest to her mother that a few extra guests to a family dinner would be just the thing - after all, there would be so few opportunities to get the full story of their engagements directly from the Bennet girls since they would be married so very soon... Lady Lucas had seen the merit of being the first in the neighbourhood to host all three engaged sisters to dinner - it would surely provide enough inside information to keep her in social engagements for many weeks to come.

Although she would normally shy away from being the topic of gossip, Elizabeth was happy enough to please Lady Lucas, for it was inevitable that the concurrent engagement of three sisters must give rise to endless speculation and it would be better to manage the rumours through a friendly neighbour than to wait and see how outrageously inventive the good folk of Meryton could be without any actual facts to build their theories upon. More importantly, however, she wanted to avoid her father. Let him come home to an empty house. He would only cause trouble, and the less time he had in which to do so, the better.

So to Lucas Lodge they had gone. The addition of Mr Bingley to the party ensured everyone had a pleasant evening. Between Sir William Lucas's irrepressible tendency to compliment everyone in his company and Charles Bingley's cheerful demeanour, conversation was lively and Lydia, Elizabeth and Jane's explanations for their respective fiancés wishing a short engagement were accepted without even a raised eyebrow. After dinner, the ladies agreed to exhibit, and it was very late before the Bennet's eventually made their way home, Mrs Bennet remembering at nearly midnight that she had a great deal to accomplish in the next few days, and could not indulge in late evenings!

By the time they arrived home, Mr Bennet had given up waiting and had retired to his chambers. The unpleasantness he was sure to visit upon his second daughter was delayed until morning.

Elizabeth rose early, determined to take at least a short walk before having to deal with either her father's hostility or her mother's enthusiasm. She tiptoed past her mother's bedroom door and chose a way out of the house that avoided her father's book room entirely. She sighed a little to think of her past enjoyment of his company in that room: how many times she had called in on him on her way out of the house to exchange some witty observation or bask in his praise that she was so unlike her mother; how often she had sought the peaceful solitude of his domain in preference to spending time with her sisters; how innocently she had believed his affection for her was true, and if not exactly selfless, at least based on more than her utility as a companion to him.

Well, she assured herself, she would not pine for her lost illusions. It was better to know the truth, however unpleasant it was. She would regret the father she had thought she knew, but she would not waste more emotion on the man she had discovered in the past week. He did not choose to act the father, so she would not own him as one.

No sooner had Elizabeth formed this resolution than she found tears springing to her eyes. She walked briskly to a sheltered part of the garden where she was sure she could not be seen from her father's windows before she gave free rein to the grief that welled up within her, and for near half an hour she wept bitterly. She had loved and trusted Thomas Bennet. She had grown to womanhood under his guidance and direction. Her education had been at his hand. Her understanding of her family, her neighbours, Meryton's merchants and tradesfolk, and everyone else she encountered in her first twenty years of life, was shaped by his jaundiced view. If Thomas Bennet was a fraud, what did that make Elizabeth Bennet?

She had learned through bitter experience that she was not the infallible judge of character that she had thought herself. She had misjudged Darcy and Wickham so badly that she had trusted the rogue and spurned the honourable man. It was only though wild chance that her path had crossed again with Darcy's, and that he had accepted her apology and they had been able to start again. All this had happened far from her father's notice, and she wondered, had Thomas Bennet known of the events at Hunsford and Pemberley at the time, would his humorous reflections on the matter have continued to guide her towards mistrust and misjudgement? It was only when she began to keep secrets from her father that Elizabeth had been able to think things through thoroughly and reach her own conclusions. And those conclusions had caused her to question her own attitude towards others - to begin to truly know herself.

Thinking about this, Elizabeth realised that she had already begun to grow beyond the role her father had designed her for before ever she set off on her journey with the Gardiners. Her break with Thomas Bennet would have happened sooner or later whether or not she had met Darcy again: she could no longer remain her father's acolyte once she began to think badly of the way he made sport of every situation.

Giving herself a shake and a few deep breaths, she turned back to the house. A triple wedding was a lot to ask of any mother, and that it was to be held so quickly only made matters worse. However much she might prefer to ignore her mother's demands, it was only fair that she carry her share of the load. She entered the breakfast room to find she and Mary were the only ones present, ate a quick and pleasant breakfast in her sister's company, and repaired to the front parlour where a pile of invitation letters awaited copying.

Elizabeth set to work, attempting to avoid ink stains and not to worry about what her father would say when he eventually entered the room.

© 2018


	25. Chapter 25

Unbeknownst to Elizabeth, Mr Bennet was no longer at Longbourn. After a restless night fretting about ungrateful daughters and witless wives, he ordered his horse saddled at first light and set off to the town of Meryton, to knock loudly on the door of Mr Phillips, the town solicitor and his brother-in-law. The door was eventually opened by a manservant who looked to have rushed to put on his livery: clearly the household was unused to receiving visitors at such an early hour. After a brief absence while the man announced their guest to his hosts, Thomas Bennet was shown into the dining room, where Mr and Mrs Phillips were breaking their fast.

Mr Phillips sprang to his feet and shook Mr Bennet's hand heartily. "My dear chap," he cried, "it is good to see you home at last! We had quite begun to wonder whether you would make it back from town in time to walk your daughters down the aisle. How are you going to manage that, by the way? If it were just two, you could take one on each arm, but with three you will need to walk them in one at a time, I suppose."

"It remains to be seen whether three arms are needed, Phillips," was his cryptic reply. "I came to seek your advice on a most urgent matter. Could we perhaps speak in your study?"

"Of course, of course, old chap," replied Phillips, thinking perhaps there was some detail in the settlement papers still to be finalised to the father of the brides' satisfaction. He bid his lady wife a fond farewell and ushered his brother-in-law into his place of business - the orderly and precise realm of a country solicitor - a room that belied the relaxed and jovial exterior he presented to the world and revealed the sharp, methodical mind that he brought to his professional work. "Now," he said, taking his place in the large leather seat behind his desk, "what can I help you with? Which of these engagements has a glitch that needs to be ironed out?"

"It is not ironing out that I am looking for, Phillips. I want the marriage stopped. Elizabeth and that Darcy fellow are acting without my consent. She is not of age. There must be some way I can stop it. I am her _father_ , and she cannot marry without my consent."

Phillips was astounded - flabbergasted - but here in his place of business, he had donned his professional demeanour, and he did not let his surprise show. Instead, he tried to draw out the details behind Mr Bennet's words. "Are there no settlement papers, then? Is Lizzy planning to marry without any protection? Has the girl been compromised?"

"No, there is nothing of that sort. And yes, there are settlement papers. Gardiner took it on himself to sign them on my behalf just because I entrusted Lizzy to his care for a day in London when they were to visit his warehouse, not go and get engaged. He claims he acted _in loco parentis_ but I was right there all along, sitting in his study, and well he knew it. 'I trust her to your care' surely can't mean 'and marry her off if you get the chance'!"

"Lizzy was here just yesterday, and she seems quite happy with the situation. Why would you want to jeopardise such an advantageous match for her, no matter how unorthodox the way in which it came about? Do you suspect the young man will rely on some loophole to withdraw from the engagement?"

"If only he would!" cried Bennet with feeling. But no, he is as set on the marriage as she is."

"Then it is your own feelings you are consulting in seeking to prevent the wedding, not your daughter's or her young man's?"

"I am her father. It is for _me_ to say if and when she will marry, and I say she will _not_. Not to Mr Darcy, and not to anyone else. If the wedding is stopped now, after the notice has been published and the whole neighbourhood it will become so notorious that no-one else will ever risk an engagement with her. Lizzy should stay at home with me. She is not made to be someone's wife, to waste her life keeping house and bearing children. With me she can live a life of the mind. She will be happier in the long run. Now, tell me, how can I go about stopping it?"

Mr Phillips summoned all of his professional self-control to avoid expressing his dismay at Bennet's callous disregard for his daughter's wishes. "Well," he said slowly, "it is true that Lord Hardwicke's Act requires parental consent for a woman under the age of 21 to marry. But as you describe the situation, there would be some question of whether you had delegated the question of consent to Mr Gardiner. It would be a matter of complicated evidence and a test of Mr Gardiner's good character. It would take both time and money, and would forever damage your brother's reputation. I could not advise you in such a proceeding, as I am too close to both the principal parties, so you would also face the costs of seeking legal representation from someone who would charge you the going rate."

"I care not for the cost," said Bennet, with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Well, you _should_!" his brother replied. "Your estate is hardly so prosperous that you can afford frivolous law suits." Phillips held up his hand to forestall Bennet's outraged protest, and assumed his most authoritative courtroom tones as he said, "Let me advise you to think better of this plan. Have you really considered all the implications? You have three daughters about to walk down the aisle. Can you imagine the scandal if you tried to escort two of them, but spoke against the marriage of the third? The whole of Meryton already knows of Lizzy's engagement. Lizzy is popular in the neighbourhood, which is more than you can claim to be. Everyone will be there, to see that great curiosity: a triple wedding, and to wish your daughters, including Lizzy, well.. Your wife, my dear sister, will relish her triumph - I can see it now, how she will delight in having three daughters married. If you do something so foolish as to forbid your daughter's marriage, you will not only irreparably damage Lizzy's reputation (which I understand you would see as a beneficial outcome) but you would damage your own, and that of your remaining daughters. Fanny would never forgive you.

"I believe you are somewhat acquainted with my sister's capacity for plaguing you. Believe me, she would be ten thousand times worse should you ruin her moment of glory. She has endured a lifetime of neglect and ridicule at your hands, sir, but she would not endure this. She would make it her life's purpose to exact vengeance on you, and you would never know another moment's peace in your life, even hidden away in that book room of yours. As a lawyer I am used to taking on difficult cases - to fighting hard battles - but I would not for all the world wish to take on Fanny Bennet for a cause such as this. You would ruin your family name, ruin Kitty and Mary's chances for marriage, make a lifelong enemy of Lizzy (for I do not think she is one to take this lying down), and guarantee a lifetime of my sister's most fervent harassment. _Perhaps_ the law is on your side, _if_ you can prove that you did not give over authority to our brother Gardiner, and if you didn't make some flippant remark yourself that could have been taken as consent (Phillips was interested to see Bennet pale at that speculation), but the price you will pay is threefold: first, you may bankrupt your estate in taking on complicated legal proceedings against Mr Darcy's deep pockets; second, you will certainly hurt _all_ your daughters' prospects and your own good name; and third, you will never know a moment's peace again so long as you live. And all to secure a future that can now never happen. Even if you succeed in stopping her from marrying Darcy, surely you know Elizabeth well enough to realise that she will leave you at her first opportunity after such a breach of trust. She turns twenty-one next year, and will be free from your authority in any case. She will not live a 'life of the mind', happily ensconced with you in your book room. That dream is over."

Seeing his brother-in-law finally, if reluctantly, listening, Phillips softened his tone and said, "Face it, Bennet, your womenfolk have won this battle. You had best put a good face on it and accept the inevitable. Any other path leads to disaster."

"But I have the right of it, legally speaking?" grumbled Bennet. "She cannot marry without my consent?"

"Certainly not by license. If they took the time for the reading of the banns and did so in some out-of-the-way corner where you did not hear of it in time, then they could still marry. Or if they went to Scotland. Or waited until Elizabeth reaches her majority. But are you sure you could prove you did not give your consent? Exactly what authority did you grant to Gardiner? Consent by proxy is still consent. And I noticed you were not entirely easy about my guess that you might have said something yourself that could be argued in a court to be consent. These cases are never as straightforward as they might at first seem."

"I _did_ tell her she was no daughter of mine, and that I never wished to see her again, and I _did_ tell Darcy that he was welcome to her and I would not take her back, but those were words spoken in anger. Surely they could not be construed as consent?"

"Perhaps not, but they could certainly be construed as having relinquished your rights to grant or deny consent. You have gotten yourself into quite a pickle, brother. I dare say there is no easy legal remedy in light of such rash statements. If I were you, I would go home and try to mend your fences: I do not exaggerate when I say any other path will buy you a world of distress at the hands of my dear sister."

By the end of this conversation, with the assistance of a glass or two of strategically applied port, Thomas Bennet was in a less belligerent mood. Although Mr Phillips had not said so in as many words, Mr Bennet realised that challenging his daughter's marriage plans would require a great deal of energy and determination, as well as the monetary expense and domestic turmoil that had been expressly mentioned. Although his anger with Elizabeth had carried him this far in an uncharacteristic bout of activity, he baulked at the prospect of a lengthy battle. He knew enough of his own propensities to recognise that both Elizabeth and Darcy were well able to win any battle that relied on sustained effort and attention to detail. It was simply too much work to be worth the attempt.

He briefly considered approaching the vicar, but he knew the answer he would get there: he could make his objection known at the moment in the wedding ceremony which invited those with objections to speak up. But Phillips was right - nothing could be more precisely calculated to inspire his wife to fits of nerves and recriminations beyond anything he had heretofore suffered at her hand. No, there was no help to be found there. All that was left to him was to make the best of the situation, and act as though he was happy to see his three daughters wed. Indeed, he _was_ happy for two of them at least, and as for the third, well, given all that had passed between them in the last week, perhaps he was well rid of her as well!

With these ruminations and rationalisations, Mr Bennet made his way slowly back to his ancestral estate, where he situated himself in his book room and lent a liberal ear to his wife's excited demands for additional funds. So long as he did not have to be bothered by talk of lace and ribbons, he would survive the fortnight. He would play his part, for Jane and Lydia's sakes if nothing else, and rejoice in the fact that his household would be three daughters less noisy and three daughters less expensive hereafter. Perhaps with two rich sons-in-law and only two daughters remaining to find husbands for, Mrs Bennet might become less anxious about her own future and more willing to leave him in peace. He had no expectation that she would become any less silly.

By the time he returned to the house, Elizabeth, Jane and Lydia were all sitting with their mother in the front parlour finalising details of the wedding breakfast and making lists of tasks each was yet to accomplish. Mrs Hill popped her head into the room to alert her mistress to the fact that the master had returned from his ride, and Mrs Bennet repaired directly to her husband's book room to explain the need for more money. She was pleasantly surprised by his readiness to grant her request, and only regretted that she had not asked for more.

Back in the parlour, Elizabeth shrugged to herself: Mr Bennet had said he did not want to see her again - perhaps he was holding true to his word, and would not further importune her. She would be more than content to avoid his company for the remainder of her days at Longbourn.

© 2018


	26. Chapter 26

Two days later, the Darcy carriage rumbled north from London, carrying Darcy, Georgiana and Captain Denny. The gentlemen had secured their marriage licenses and were eager to see their ladies again. Georgiana was equal parts amused at her usually staid brother's impatience and excited to meet Miss Elizabeth's family.

As recent rain had settled the dust, and the journey had been accomplished in the comfort of a well appointed vehicle, Darcy denied the need to rest and refresh themselves at Netherfield before setting out for a visit to Longbourn. It was already early afternoon, and he did not wish to sacrifice any more time to the niceties of being impeccably groomed. He forced himself to leave the choice to Georgiana, however, as she was least used to hard travel, and ladies always seemed to need to change their attire after a carriage ride. To his great relief, Georgie laughed at his reluctant offer to wait for her to be ready, asserting that she was more than ready to set off immediately. Bingley, it seemed, was already at Longbourn, so they simply left instructions for their trunks to be delivered to their rooms and asked the coachman to turn his team around and take them the extra five miles to join him there. Both man and team were well able to endure the additional distance, and they were on their way within a quarter hour of first reaching Bingley's estate.

Lydia was the first to spot the approaching carriage, and quickly identified the crest as being that of her future brother. "Lizzy," she cried,"they are come at last!" At this, all the remaining women rushed to join her at the window and watch the impressive equipage roll to a halt in front of the house. Charles Bingley, who had been sitting in quiet conversation with Jane, was not slow to follow. With a start, Elizabeth realised that within moments the visitors would be at their doorstep, and she hurried to the doorway in order to provide them with a proper welcome.

She had endured the separation well: she knew it was necessary and had full confidence that he would come as soon as he could. She had schooled herself to patience, keeping herself busy and encouraging her sisters to share their happiness as a distraction from her own wistful longings. She had reminded herself that by the end of the next week she need never be parted from Darcy again (though her wiser self knew that of course a man with so many responsibilities as her betrothed must be often from home). She had visited neighbours, taken walks, written letters and even tried to read a novel. But as the days had slowly passed, she found herself again and again lost in contemplation of a certain gentleman, imagining that slow smile he reserved just for her and wishing she could feel the comfort of his arms around her.

Now, her thoughts bubbled and fizzed with giddy delight at the prospect of seeing him again. The carriage door opened and Darcy stepped out briskly. He cast one burning glance at Elizabeth before turning to hand his sister out. Georgiana hurried forward to grasp Elizabeth's hands in her own and began to express her joy at seeing her friend before recollecting herself and stepping back to await a proper introduction to Elizabeth's mother and sisters, who were by now assembled on the front porch. Darcy had watched all this with fond exasperation - he wanted nothing more than to steal away with Elizabeth to somewhere quiet and entirely devoid of sisters, but knew he would have to wait for that opportunity.

Denny had quietly alighted behind Georgiana, and his own eyes had strayed directly to his Lydia, standing beautiful and happy beside her sisters. "La! Now you can see what a handsome officer I have caught, Mama," she laughed. Of course, Mrs Bennet had known Captain Denny from his time in Meryton when the militia were billeted there, but Lydia was too light-hearted to worry about such details. She had come home an engaged woman, and was determined to relish every moment.

Happily, everyone else was quite ready to let her do the talking. Bingley had greeted his friend Darcy, and now wanted nothing more than to steal away with Jane to resume their tete-a-tete in the parlour. Darcy and Elizabeth were content to gaze silently at each other while Mrs Bennet fussed over her Lydia and loudly agreed that Captain Denny indeed looked very fine in his regimentals. Georgiana, forgetting her earlier ease, had been overcome with shyness and embarrassment that she had put herself forward so. She was glad to stand back and watch events play out before her.

Eventually Mary nudged Elizabeth and recalled her to her duty to introduce Georgiana to her mother and sisters. The formalities were quickly accomplished and the whole party repaired to the parlour, which was now full to capacity. A quick rearrangement of chairs into comfortable groups enabled everyone to take a seat together with those they most wanted to talk to. At last, at last, Darcy and Elizabeth were able to sit and at least talk, if they could not hold hands or be more demonstrative in present company. Mr Bennet did not put in an appearance, but none thought anything of that, since he had rarely stirred himself to join his wife and daughters' visitors in the past.

"Are you well, Elizabeth?" Darcy asked as soon as they had a moment of relative privacy. "You have not faced any further ... difficulties?"

"I am very well now that you are here," she replied warmly. "In truth, I have fretted to be parted from you, and my patience for wedding planning has been stretched beyond its capacity, but I have faced nothing worse than my own frustrations. My father has been silent, which suits me well, and my mother and sisters have received my news with everything I could want in the way of sisterly and motherly affection. Perhaps I have not always been my mother's favourite daughter, but your rumoured wealth has enabled her to find some respect for me after all, and your foolish choice to relieve her of her most troublesome daughter guarantees you a fond place in her heart."

Darcy was relieved to hear her speak with that wit and gentle humour that marked her happiness. He had worried, despite her reassurances, at her father whisking her away to the country, imagining all sorts of manoeuvres Mr Bennet might have attempted to separate them. Darcy had consulted his second cousin, the bishop, and knew that there was just enough doubt over the question of paternal consent that M Bennet could have made matters very difficult for them if he chose to do so. Darcy would have fought with all his resources to defend Elizabeth from her father's machinations, but he did not want to begin their marriage under the cloud of scandal which such proceedings would inevitably raise. He was not sure what had resulted in Mr Bennet's apparent capitulation: he could only be thankful it had occurred.

He responded in kind, assuring Elizabeth that he was delighted his wealth could be of practical use in raising her in her mother's estimation, before, in more serious tones, adding, "I am glad you have found support amongst your family, whatever the reason. And after all, now that I think on it, I suspect it is for yourself and not for your future husband that your mother holds you in affection. How could she not, when you are a daughter any mother would be proud of?"

Elizabeth laughed at this gallantry, and Darcy's triumph was complete. To be able to bring a smile to her face had been his highest ambition: laughter was an unexpected bonus.

Indeed, for the past week, Darcy had found himself in the unusual situation of intense anticipation of the future. For so many years, his thoughts had been focussed on the past: on the loss of his parents, on his failures as a guardian to his sister, on his disastrous proposal at Hunsford and all it had lost him... It was only since being reunited with Elizabeth Bennet that he had been able to imagine a better future - something other than the drudgery of endless duty and responsibility. He still saw duty and responsibility in his future, but with the promise of Elizabeth by his side, those prospects gained a rosy hue. Elizabeth brought life and happiness, and he could not wait for the day when he could fix her permanently in his life.

In London, finalising those arrangements that were necessary before he could travel to Hertfordshire at last, he had ofttimes consoled himself with imaginings of walking with Elizabeth in the gardens at Pemberley. Sometimes his thoughts had strayed to more intimate things he might do with her once they were married, but as a gentleman, he tried valiantly to banish such tempting imaginings. The wait was long enough without torturing himself with longings that could not yet be satisfied, and he found a state of constant arousal was not conducive to his comfort (even so, there were times he could barely walk, for the effects his wayward thoughts were having on his anatomy).

In the long hours between appointments and meetings, if he had no other business to complete, Darcy had tried to keep himself busy. It was the result of one such project that he now shared with Elizabeth: "The day you left town, you sent me a message."

"I recall it," she said. "It was forward of me, I know, but as we _were_ engaged, I thought you would not mind, and I had to explain my sudden departure."

"I was not in any way disconcerted other than by its contents, I assure you. I treasure it dearly and am very glad that you sent it. I did not speak to question your means of communication, but to ask if you recall the young lad you entrusted its delivery to?"

"Yes, young Frank. He is a good lad, who works in my uncle's household. What of him?"

"Well, I learned he has a sister who works in a different household, who he hardly ever sees, as their days off fall on different days. I had the opportunity to speak to Mrs Gardiner and suggest that she amend his day off so that it coincides with that of his sister, which she was happy to do. She had been unaware that the lad had any family living, and expressed her regret that her resources do not at present extend to offering the sister work, to enable them to be together in the same household."

"It must be a great relief to Frank to be able to see his sister every week, now," Elizabeth observed. "It was good of you to take such care of another man's servant."

"I deserve no particular praise. I only did what any Christian ought. But I had a chance to speak to Frank again before I left town, and with your aunt's permission, offered to take both him and his sister into service at Darcy House if they are interested. Frank was most eager, but will speak with his sister before making a decision. She is trained as a lady's maid, and might not want a lower position simply to be closer to her brother. I had thought that if you have not yet decided on your personal staff, you might give the girl a trial as your maid? Of course, I know nothing of her except her brother's glowing report, and if she does not suit, you must not feel obliged to engage her in such a role - it is essential you feel comfortable with your lady's maid - and there is plenty of other work to be done in our houses. But if you are willing, we could send a message via your aunt, and Frank and his sister could be ready and waiting on our return to town."

Elizabeth was struck by the way in which Darcy had put together several different problems to find a way to help a lad he had no responsibility for, and a girl he had never met. And in the process, he had even found her a candidate for lady's maid! "I would be happy to give the girl a trial, William," she said. "I know it is a common thing, but it seems very hard for a brother and sister to be separated so when they are all the family each has left."

"My sentiments exactly," Darcy replied, looking meaningfully across the room to where his own sister chatted shyly with Mary and Kitty. "Will you write to Frank Tyler? As the future mistress, the hiring and disposition of household staff falls to you, after all."

"Certainly, if you wish it, although I will not be mistress until after we are wed, William. Have you spoken to Frank about what duties he might have in our employ? Do you see him continuing as a kitchen hand and messenger?"

"You are already the mistress of my heart, Lizzy. The wedding will simply make it official." The smile she gifted him with at such a declaration thoroughly distracted him from his train of thought, and it was with some difficulty that he brought his attention back to the discussion at hand. "I am inclined to leave Frank's disposition to our butler - there is plenty of work in the kitchens, as well as running messages, but he might have better prospects in the stables, particularly if his sister becomes your lady's maid, for then she would travel with you between Pemberley and town. A groom or coachman would also be able to travel with us, reducing future separations of brother and sister, whereas a kitchen lad is really tied to one establishment. But it really depends on the boy's talents. He may not take to horses, after all."

"Then I shall write accordingly. Would you like to see the letter before it is sent?"

"Only if you wish to ask my advice on any point. I know your skill in arranging things - after all, your scheme for achieving an engagement was impeccable both in design and execution - and trust that you will bring the same care to your correspondence as the future Mrs Darcy." This was concluded with a smile and a wink, which granted Darcy yet another of Elizabeth's laughs, and brought him all the satisfaction that pleasing his beloved could bestow.

A small disturbance soon followed, as Darcy's chief footman, overseeing the distribution of luggage at Netherfield Park, had discovered amongst the various trunks a package intended for the ladies at Longbourn. As he had personally been sent to collect the package from the modiste, and knew it to contain, amongst other things, the ladies' wedding gowns, he took it upon himself to deliver it immediately to that estate. Thus, barely an hour after the grooms and Georgiana arrived, Mrs Bennet was summonsed from the room to accept a delivery.

And what a delivery it was: a handsome man in Darcy livery offered a large package, almost the size of a large trunk, but wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. It was brought immediately to the dining room, where space was cleared on the table for it to be opened. Lydia, who had followed her mother into the hallway, realised what it was, and urged Mrs Bennet to silence. "For it contains our gowns and other things from the modiste, Mama. It would not be proper for the Captain and Mr Darcy to see them before the wedding - we want them to be surprised at how lovely we will look, and there ought to be some more intimate garments in the package, which it would be mortifying for them to see."

Mrs Bennet saw the merit in her favourite daughter's words, and returned to the front parlour only to declare that there was still much to be achieved before the weddings, and, while Miss Darcy would be most welcome to stay and assist if she so wished, the gentlemen should return to Netherfield Park and prepare themselves to rejoin the Bennet household for dinner that evening, "for it will be a quiet family gathering - no more than five courses."

Darcy, Captain Denny and Bingley reluctantly tore themselves away from their fiancées, Georgiana elected to stay, the niceties of parting were properly exchanged, and the men were efficiently bundled out of the house. As soon as the door was closed behind them, Mrs Bennet's glee overflowed. She fluttered her handkerchief as she hurried her daughters to the dining room, as eager as a child at Christmas to see the parcel unwrapped. Although they were less demonstrative about it, her daughters and Georgiana were scarcely less eager to discover its contents. New gowns were always something to be remarked upon, and the unveiling of wedding trousseaux for not one but two of their number, purchased from a London modiste, was an event of unparalleled excitement for any country household.

Thus it was with many gasps, sighs and exclamations of delight that the seven women greeted each of the items which were carefully unfolded from their wrapping. Checking the gowns for fit would have to wait until Elizabeth and Lydia were in the privacy of their own rooms, but the gowns were held up for examination and approval. If Mrs Bennet was a little disappointed by the lack of lace and trimmings, she consoled herself with the excellence of the fabrics and the evident quality of the workmanship. She also reminded herself that Jane's wedding gown, being made locally in Meryton, would have enough decoration to outshine her younger sisters, as was only proper.

Georgiana enjoyed viewing the gowns and examining the gloves and shoe roses as much as her future sisters did. She had always had an interest in fashion, and even for a young lady of comparative wealth such as herself, a parcel of new clothes such as this was not so commonplace an event as to have lost its shine. But even more than the unwrapping of the clothes themselves, she delighted in the easy camaraderie between the sisters - the way Kitty danced around Lydia as she held up her wedding gown; the compliments and gentle teasing; the laughter and chatter of multiple voices all cutting across each other, dipping and weaving comfortably from one thread of conversation to another. At first, she held herself back a little and simply observed, but she was quickly drawn into the lively exchange by Mary's gentle request for her view on a particular fabric and Lydia's boisterous demand that everyone acknowledge her gown to be the prettiest. Before long, she felt herself quite at home among more sisters than she had ever dreamed of having!

Eventually the party broke up, with Kitty and Mrs Bennet following Lydia to her room to check on the proper fitting of her gown, while Mary, Georgiana, and Jane attended Elizabeth for the same purpose. It was a testament to the modiste's staff that only the smallest adjustments were needed to achieve a perfect fit on both gowns, and nothing that could not be done by their maid, Sarah. Satisfied, the ladies hung the gowns and carefully folded the other items ready to pack in their trunks. Elizabeth tried to give one of her new chemises to Jane, for they were of a similar size, but Jane was insistent that she would have her own new items soon enough, and would not hear of taking anything from her sister's trousseau.

© 2018


	27. Chapter 27

Mr Bennet had mulled over the advice he had received from Mr Phillips. He knew the man to be a competent lawyer, and trusted him sufficiently to know he would not give false advice. If Philips said challenging the marriage would be a long and complicated process with little chance of success and great chance of expense, then so it would be. Still, the factor that weighed most heavily with Thomas Bennet was the threat of retribution from his wife. True, Phillips knew his own sister, but surely Bennet knew her better. He had shared a house with her for twenty-five years, after all. Perhaps, he thought, he might be able to work on _her_ to oppose the match, for she would not worry about legalities or expense - she would be a force to be reckoned with, and no one would think to blame him for her conduct. He recalled how she had hated Mr Darcy when he first came into the neighbourhood, and slighted one of her daughters at the assembly. He sat up straighter and began to plan his attack.

Mrs Bennet was not surprised to be summoned to her husband's book room. She presumed he wished to hear more of the wedding plans, or to chastise her about the extent of her expenditure on the arrangements for it. It was a shock, therefore, to be invited to join him in the comfortable chairs before the fireplace, and have her hand taken solicitously in his.

"Three weddings at once is a great deal to ask of you, my dear," he began. "Surely your task would be easier if one of our girls might delay her nuptials?"

"Well, of course it is a challenge, Mr Bennet," she answered, and was about to add that she had risen to the challenge and would deliver an event that would be the talk of the neighbourhood for years to come, when he interrupted to say, "I thought as much. It seems unfair to you to indulge our daughters' fancy to marry all at once. Surely we should ask Lizzy to wait her turn?"

"Oh, there is no need for that, I assure you," she said firmly. .I have already made most of the arrangements, and all our neighbours already know to expect a triple wedding. It would raise all the wrong sort of speculation if one of them were to be delayed now. In any case, it is the bridegrooms, not the brides, who have insisted on such a short engagement period. How on earth do you think we might explain a delay to them? Particularly to Mr Darcy!"

"I have been wondering about our Lizzy and Mr Darcy. We all know that she really dislikes him, and must only be accepting him for his fortune. Surely that will not make her happy. Would it not be kinder to our girl to scare the man off? We should forbid her to marry such a rude, haughty fellow."

All this he said with a warmth and apparent sympathy that his wife had not seen for many years. Perhaps if he had shown her more kindness from time to time she might have believed him now. Instead, her reaction rewarded the scorn with which Mr Bennet had habitually treated his wife.

"Forbid her to marry him? Scare him off? Have you taken leave of your senses?" Her outrage was immediate. "He may be a proud, disagreeable sort of man, but he has ten thousand a year. Ten. Thousand. A. Year! It is nearly as good as a lord! Whether she likes him or not, your Lizzy is doing the right thing by marrying him. She will be so rich. She will have such pin money. She will be able to put Mary and Kitty in the path of other rich men. She will be able to save me from the hedgerows should you meet your maker and those horrible Collinses come to take possession of Longbourn. Why, the very idea of throwing him over is incredible!" Mrs Bennet was turning an impressive shade of red as she grew steadily more incensed at the idea.

Then she paused, and let out a shuddering sigh that ended in a little giggle. "Oh, Mr Bennet," she cried in relief, "How you do like to vex me. This is one of your little teases, isn't it? Of course our Lizzy shall marry Mr Darcy, and from what I have seen since she returned home, I do not think she dislikes him any more. If I had to guess, I would say that her feelings are quite the opposite, in fact."

Mr Bennet was only too aware of the fact, and liked it no more now than when he had first learned it. He withdrew his hand from his wife's and all pretence of affection was dropped, as he said, "In that case, my dear, may she have every bit as much joy in her marriage as I have had in mine." Buoyed by having three daughters engaged and insensible as ever to her husband's sarcasm, Fanny Bennet leaned across to give him a kiss on the cheek in reward for such sweet words, before rushing off to speak with the cook about dinner. Thomas Bennet was left behind to contemplate the failure of all his efforts.

It seemed that Lizzy and Darcy would wed and there was nothing he could do about it.

It was only a family dinner that evening, which meant that in addition to the three bridegrooms and all the Bennets, Mr and Mrs Phillips were invited, making up a large and boisterous dining table. Manners were easy and conversation varied. Darcy was pleased to find himself seated far enough from Mr Bennet that no attempt at conversation was necessary with that man. Indeed, Mr Bennet seemed content to talk only to Captain Denny and Lydia, who were seated at his left and right respectively, and to ignore the remainder of the assembled company.

Darcy was seated opposite Elizabeth and between Mr and Mrs Phillips. Darcy had not previously spent more than a few moments time in company with either, but after the pleasure of getting to know the Gardiners, he was eager to add more of Elizabeth's relations to his circle of friends. Mr Phillips turned out to be a well informed gentleman who hid a sharp legal mind behind an exterior of affability and lethargy. His observations on current politics were astute, and the two gentlemen maintained a mutually satisfactory discourse until the first remove.

Darcy then turned politely to his other side, to attempt a conversation with Mrs Phillips. To his disappointment, he found her both less well informed and less genteel than her husband. He suffered many minutes of insipid conversation about neighbourhood gossip, interspersed with poorly-disguised innuendo about the reason for such a short engagement period, before he was rescued by Elizabeth loudly asking across the table for him to tell her more about the gardens at Pemberley. Hearing a rich man describe the great estate of which her niece was soon to be mistress was sufficient distraction for Mrs Phillips that she did not return to her more offensive line of speculation, although she _did_ ask several pointed questions about the value of the estate and Darcy's annual income.

After the meal, Elizabeth did her best to deflect her aunt's attention, and to protect William and Georgiana from such impertinent curiosity. The unfortunate result was that she spent no time at all in company with those two she most wished to talk to, and the carriage had been called to take the Netherfield party home before she had managed more than twenty words together with Darcy. Being an enterprising young lady, however, those twenty words proposed a walk to Oakham Mount on the morrow, accompanied for propriety's sake by Georgiana and Kitty. With this plan fixed, Darcy left in far better cheer than he had expected.

A walk in the countryside was just what the young couple needed. Georgiana remembered Elizabeth's comparisons of the countryside in Derbyshire with that around her own home, and was at first full of questions about where they were going and what they would see, but after some minutes of frustrated onlooking, her brother finally cleared his throat loudly enough to remind her that she was a supposed to be chaperoning an engaged couple, not coming between them. Darcy and Elizabeth soon outpaced their guardians, as Georgiana turned her questions to Kitty, and the two girls gradually slowed to a dawdle, chatting about their homes, their families and a scandalously good novel that Kitty had just finished and was willing to recount blow by blow.

It is perhaps not surprising that the glorious panorama to be seen from atop Oakham Mount inspired the young lovers to exchange words of devotion and not a few kisses, but by the time their sisters finally joined them, they were sitting calmly, hand in hand, talking about their future hopes and enjoying the view.

There followed only a few days before the wedding was upon them. Although in some cases it seemed more like witchcraft than good management, Mrs Bennet succeeded in all her preparations: the brides were well presented, the church was beautifully decorated, the wedding breakfast was sumptuous and everyone who attended was appropriately accommodated - even Darcy's uncle and aunt, who spent the Friday night in the best guest rooms at Netherfield Park and lent their presence to the wedding on the Saturday morning. They were joined in the church by assorted Bingley's and Dennys - Lydia was particularly pleased by the attendance of her future sister, Cecelia Charlton. With so many relatives in attendance, the pews were soon full, and the crowd of local well-wishers spilled over into the churchyard outside.

Darcy, Bingley and Denny stood together at the altar, waiting for their brides to arrive. Each was finely dressed and well groomed, but their outer appearance did not conceal the nerves which each had brought to the day. Danny fiddled with the handle of his ceremonial sword, buckled at his side as he stood in full dress uniform. Bingley rocked up on to the balls of his feet, and down again, too focussed on the back of the church to notice his own movement. Darcy slowly clenched and unclenched his left hand, equally unaware that the motion revealed his tension to the crowd of onlookers.

And then, there they were. Mr Bennet entered the church with Lydia on one arm and Jane on the other. The two tallest and most classically beautiful Bennet daughters looked like something from a fairy-tale. Jane's calm elegance was complemented by Lydia's bouncing exuberance, and all eyes were on their glowing faces as they proceeded to the front of the church: all eyes but Darcy's, who looked anxiously behind them, searching for the one face he most longed to see.

A muttering went around the church - there had been much speculation about how one father could give away three daughters in a single ceremony. Mr Phillips' quip about needing three arms was but one of the jokes that had been circulating. Now here was the day, and Mr Bennet had escorted his oldest and youngest child down the aisle, but not Elizabeth, the one everyone in Meryton knew to be his favourite. It was typical of Thomas Bennet to keep them in suspense, someone murmured. It would be fine joke if he left his first two daughters standing there while he went out to escort the third, said another. Would Elizabeth - that conceitedly independent child - walk herself down the aisle, asked a third.

But then the door opened as second time and Elizabeth entered on the arm of her Uncle Gardiner. While it was a simpler and less scandalous solution than some had hoped for, it made sense for the nearest male relative to step in to give the third daughter away. Of all those watching, only Darcy and Elizabeth, Mr Bennet and Mr Gardiner knew that this arrangement was at the bride's express request: she had not wanted Mr Bennet to stand up as her father, and she was honoured to walk on her uncle's arm in his stead. She joined her sisters at the altar, and if, during the ceremony, it was Mr Gardiner and not Mr Bennet who placed her hand in that of her new husband, there were few who thought anything of it. Everyone agreed that the day was a spectacular success, and a credit to the loving parents who had brought three such beautiful brides into being, although Mrs Bennet could not help a small regret that there had not been near enough lace on Lydia's gown, and that the hothouse flowers promised by Mrs Goulding had been delivered too late for use in the church. At least she had been able to make use of them at the breakfast. Mr Bennet's regrets remained closeted in that gentleman's head, as there was none who would lend him a sympathetic ear, and none he would trust to understand his disappointment.

© 2018


	28. Epilogue

Darcy trimmed his pen after finishing the last of his correspondence for the day: he always liked to begin the day with a sharp quill, so it was his custom to ensure it was in good nick before straightening his papers and capping his ink at the end of each day's scribing. He looked at his desk, a place ordered to his needs as master of the estate, satisfied himself that there was nothing left requiring his attention, and stood, pushing back his heavy chair. A glance at the window assured him it was still only mid-afternoon, and bright sunlight tempted him out into the garden.

He sighed, stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders to relieve the ache from too many hours at his desk, before throwing open the French doors that led directly from his study onto the patio. He knew he would be the only one still indoors on such an afternoon, and had no need to inquire as to his wife's whereabouts: his Lizzy would be in the gardens - perhaps demurely seated under a shade as she worked on her own duties or attempted a sketch; perhaps gambolling about with a puppy or two and several small children. Either way, it would not take him long to locate her.

It was several hours since they had parted after breakfast. Their respective duties as master and mistress of so large an estate required a great deal of attention, and after five years of marriage, they no longer felt the compelling need to be in each other's company that had characterised the early days of their union.

Even so, Darcy felt that nigh on six hours was far too long without a glimpse of his beloved wife. He set out briskly towards her favourite spot - a sweeping lawn overlooking the lake and bordered by towering oaks on one side and a formal rose garden on the other. Although the presence of two balls and an abandoned cock horse on the lawn showed that it had recently been occupied, it was now silent, giving no clue as to where its denizens had gone next.

Undaunted, Darcy set off for the orchard, where he knew Elizabeth on occasion rewarded her followers with a freshly-picked apple at this time of year. Having run them to exhaustion in various games, she would wander under the laden branches of the apple trees, concocting outrageous tales of adventure and dispensing shiny red fruit to tide their young appetites over until dinner time. Once again, though, Darcy was to be disappointed.

The sound of laughter drew his attention back to the house, where he saw his son and daughter, Bingley's eldest girl and one or two of the household children being ushered indoors by Miss Pilbrow, the nanny. Mrs Darcy always made sure to include the servants' children in the fun and games, without giving undue distinction to any of them in particular. She would not raise her children too proud to be friends with those of other stations in life, but she nor would she repeat the mistakes of the past.

Clearly, the afternoon of outdoor fun had finished, but Elizabeth was nowhere in sight.

Darcy began to fret. After a tedious day of estate business, he relied on Elizabeth to cheer him back into good humour. He wanted her ready wit and teasing to remind him that there was more to life than ledger books and tenant disputes. Truth be told, he just wanted to be held in her arms, and to hold her in return. Yet when he wanted her, she was nowhere to be found.

Despite knowing his pique to be foolish, Darcy felt disconsolate as he set off at random through the gardens. If he could not have Lizzy by his side, he would try to walk off his grumpiness before going to visit his brood in the nursery. The children would cheer him - he always enjoyed their company - but it was not the same as being with Elizabeth.

His feet took him down the path beside the stream - a walk to the little bridge and back up the other side was just the right length to restore his good humour. Once determined on the path, he resumed his customary brisk pace, watching the stream closely for signs of trout.

He thought back to that day, a little over five years ago, when he had so unexpectedly encountered Miss Elizabeth Bennet on this very path. His life had seemed so desolate then: replete with regret and devoid of any prospect of future happiness. Yet one chance meeting, one honest conversation, and his life had been rewritten. He closed his eyes to offer his thanks to whatever spirits of the place had effected such felicity. (He laughed a little at himself - surely his cousin Collins would be appalled at the pagan heresy of thanking water sprites or forest elves when he should be directing his gratitude to God. Darcy was as good a Christian as his station required him to be, and he did not really believe in elves and such, but he had grown up among people of the land, and echos of the old beliefs wove their way through the fabric of his faith. He saw no contradiction in thanking those natural spirits the Lord had provided to help men along.)

When he opened his eyes, it was as if those spirits had conjured his greatest worldly desire, for there stood Elizabeth Darcy, a laughing smile on her lips and a twinkle in her eye. This very spot was where their second chance had started, and they had both seized it for all they were worth.

Much had happened since - three children born (though one had died in infancy); Bingley and Jane moving to a neighbouring estate; Mr Bennet dying of a seizure not seven months after their wedding; Mrs Bennet coming, with Kitty and Mary, to live in the dower house at Pemberley, only to beg to return to a cottage in Meryton within the year so that she could be closer to her sister and all her friends; Mary marrying and moving with her new husband to his parsonage in Wessex; Georgiana becoming engaged to Sir John Richards, a fellow of the Royal Society with whom she spent much time looking down microscopes and making meticulous drawings of insects; and Kitty publishing her first gothic novel, under the pen name George Ponsonby.

Yet in many ways Darcy felt just as he had that summer's day in oh-twelve, when he had stood dripping like a fish in front of this magnificent woman. He had quivered in anticipation, wondering what she would say, how she would weigh his worth in the palm of her hand, whether she would dispense forgiveness or disdain, how he could make amends for all his past errors. Now he knew that she had forgiven him, and, beyond his fondest expectations, had granted him her love: he was the luckiest man alive.

Darcy looked on Elizabeth's mischievous face, watched as one eyebrow quirked up in the infallible signal that she was about to tease him mercilessly, and felt joy blossoming in his chest. "By God, I love you, woman," he breathed fervently, effectively softening her gaze but not quite forestalling her tease.

"It is just as well, Mr Darcy," she replied, "for we would be in terrible pickle if you found me only tolerable."

With that, they took each other in their arms and shared a smouldering kiss before wandering slowly back towards the house where myriad duties awaited the master and mistress of Pemberley.

 _— fin —_

Just a quick note to let you know that the complete story **Encounter at Pemberley** by Margaret Gale has now been published as an ebook on **Kobo** and **Amazon**.

I would also like to take this opportunity to thank you for coming along for the ride. I had no real plot outline when this began - some of you will remember that it started as a one-shot - and it has taken some twists and turns that even I did not expect. I would also like to say again how very much I appreciate all the feedback you have given me through your reviews, follows and favourites. It is heartening to know that you have enjoyed my humble offerings, and whenever I have flagged or suffered from writer's block, your encouragement and constructive criticism has given me the boost I needed to carry on.

A special thanks for those who have pointed out my errors - whether grammatical or historical. I hope I have fixed all the former, and have given serious consideration to all the latter. Sometimes, however, I have persisted with a minor historical inaccuracy for the sake of narrative flow. I hope the purists will forgive me!

I don't have any other tales ready to go, but there are a few plot ideas bubbling away that might just turn into new stories soon. If you want to be the first to know, then select "follow author" and you'll get an alert whenever I start a new story.

So farewell for now.

elag


End file.
